


Three Nights at the Winchester (aka Jared of the Dead)

by Jenny Lynne (jenny_lynne)



Category: Actor RPF, CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Related Characters, Break Up, Character Death, Character Undeath, Community: spn_j2_bigbang, Crossdressing, Cultural References, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Horror, Humor, Inspired by Shaun of the Dead, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Naked Misha, Oblivious Jared, References to Supernatural (TV), Romantic Comedy, Violence, Zero to Hero, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_lynne/pseuds/Jenny%20Lynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is in the middle of a personal crisis of epic preportions.  He has to make a lunch date with his mother and smarmy step-dad, convince his roommates to play nice, convince his boyfriend to un-break-up with him, and deal with the Zombies in the backyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I: Trouble in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** overzealous, gratuitous use of the undead; character deaths and undeaths; naked Misha; excessive cussing; absolutely no porn _(sorry)_
> 
> A re-telling of Shaun of the Dead, J2 American-style. where Jared is at a turning point in his life, Jensen is a hot pediatric nurse, Misha is an uptight corporate – well, no one’s really sure what he does, Mike is a drag queen, Tom is a jerk, and Chad is – well…Chad.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a product of whimsy and a wild imagination. It’s all make-believe, purple glitter, pink smoke, and rainbow mirrors. Sadly, I know none of these people in real life. The words themselves are all on loan from _Merriam-Webster and Roget_. In short, I own no one and nothing. In fact, I don’t even own myself -- my Pug owns me.
> 
>  _Shaun of the Dead_ is a brilliant 2004 British “romantic zombie movie”, written by Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright and starring Simon Pegg. The story is generously abused in this piece of fan fiction using an age-old creative method-known as  literary re-appropriation (ie. retelling or reinterpretation with different context and/or characters) a la the novel _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_ , the play _Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead_, and the movies _Kiss Me, Kate_ and _10 Things I Hate About You_.
> 
>  **2011 SPN/J2 Big Bang Artist** : juvenine _(yay for her awesomeness!)_
> 
>  **Beta:** candygramme – to whom this story is dedicated, because if not for her, it would have just been another one of the million random wild thoughts that zip in and out of my freaky mind every day; she not only enticed me to do it, she told me I could, and then encouraged me all the way until I’d written my first boy-kissing-boy story. So, whether you like it or not, it’s all her fault. :P
> 
> The words themselves are all on loan from Merriam-Webster and Roget.
> 
> In short, I own no one and nothing. In fact, I don’t even own myself -- my Pug owns me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The very first time Jensen approached him, Jared's goofy, dimpled face had gone all dumbstruck. At the time, Jensen found it stupidly charming. Four years later, Jared was wearing that very same expression, but now Jensen secretly thought his boyfriend looked like a moron -- not that he would say that out loud -- well, not to Jared's face, anyway. Well, not today. Maybe.

**Act I: Trouble in Paradise**   


 

The very first time Jensen approached him, Jared's goofy, dimpled face had gone all dumbstruck. At the time, Jensen found it stupidly charming. Four years later, Jared was wearing that very same expression, but now Jensen secretly thought his boyfriend looked like a moron -- not that he would say that out loud -- well, not to Jared's face, anyway. Well, not today. Maybe.

However, he had no problem taking his irritation out on Jared's best friend, Chad.

"Jay, are you listening to me?" Jensen snapped his fingers three times in front of Jared's face, causing him to blink with each snap. Satisfied, Jensen leaned back in his chair and watched how the dim lighting caused chameleonic changes of blue, green, and brown in Jared's hazel eyes.  

"Yes!" Jared dropped his eyes and concentrated on picking at the label on his beer bottle. "Yeah, of course, I'm listening." Frowning, he sighed softly. Apparently, pretending to ignore the resurrected conversation was not going to make it go away. He made a move to loosen his tie, before remembering he had already discarded it on a coat hook. In fact, just after entering the bar, He had had rolled up his shirtsleeves and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white Oxford shirt , exposing his undershirt. Yet, for some reason, he still felt a little stifled.

Jensen still wore scrubs from his shift in the pediatric wing at the Children's National Medical Center. His short, dark blonde bangs hung softly over his forehead, not a hair out of place. His uniform bore no signs of wrinkles or stains. Anyone looking at him could just as easily assume he was on his way to work as they might assume he was on his way home. In contrast, Jared looked like he might have slept in his uniform and then walked through a wind tunnel in a coffee-induced rainstorm.

Twirling his own beer bottle in his fingers, Jensen stated, "It's not that I don't like Chad."

Jared's head snapped back up to stare hard into Jensen's gold-specked, deep green eyes. Normally just catching a glimpse of those eyes would throw Jared in a tailspin; many times he had imagined it was eyes like those that kept Odysseus lost at sea for so many years. Right now, however, Jared found it impossible to get beyond Jensen's ludicrous lie but lacked the energy to verbally call him on it. Instead, he just pointedly stared at Jensen, mentally daring him to look away first.

Jensen shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well…I don't _hate_ him, Jay."

"Oh, Fuck off!" thundered through the bar at the absolute most perfect moment when the old 80's jukebox had just finished _I've Got Friends in Low Places_ and just before loading _Another One Bites the Dust_.

Jared winced, breaking the staring contest with Jensen. Courageously, He refused to turn around to look at the source of the commotion. He knew exactly what Jensen was straining to see over Jared's broad shoulders.

Chad Murray was kicking and beating the hell out of the Ms. Pac-Man machine less than five feet away while a string of obscenities that would make a Marine Drill Sergeant blush flooded out of his mouth.

"Hey! Whore-monkey!" Samantha Ferris -- The Winchester's owner -- leaned on the heavily nicked but polished bar on one hand and pointed angrily at Chad with the other. Her thick chestnut hair fell past her shoulders. She had a figure any man -- any straight man -- in the bar would love to get his hands on if the likelihood of having every bone broken in those hands by her -- or less likely by her trophy husband -- had better odds. "I already warned you, if you break that video game, I'm gonna take it outta your skinny ass!"

"Promise?" Grinning at her, Chad gripped both of his ass cheeks through his tight black jeans and crudely squeezed in her direction.

Samantha rolled her eyes at the blonde, who was young enough to be her…younger brother. "Chad, honey, you ain't got nothing I haven't seen, and if you do, it's only because everyone else has already had it. In either case, I'm not interested in your skanky little self. Now, stop raging on my vintage decor and either imbibe in the atmosphere or get the fuck out." The feisty bartender added the last bit with her best thank-you-and-come-back-now-you-hear smile.

"Fine." Chad petulantly stomped up to the bar. He placed an order for a beer, patting down his denim jacket pockets for some cash, but seriously considered putting it on Jared's tab.

Smugly, Jensen leaned back in his chair and blinked at Jared, who just shrugged and took a swig of his beer. Jensen sighed with resignation. "It'd just be nice if we could…spend a little more time together…just the two of us…" Jensen gave Jared a suggestive look. "But Chad is always there." Jensen waved his hands randomly between them.

"You always invite Mike and Tom whenever we go out." Jared gestured at the twosome at the table to his left.

The other couple was hard to miss. Despite The Winchester being mostly empty that night, Mike and Tom not only parked themselves at the very next table, but they had pulled their chairs together so they were practically melded from ankle to shoulder, sitting only a few inches away from Jensen, like two little devils lurking on one of his shoulders. Both were glaring at Jared as if he had committed mass genocide last week. Offering what he hoped was a nonthreatening, friendly smile he shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of their shared gaze.

"Yeah, well, something needs to balance the level of douche-bagginess, or I'll go crazy," Jensen replied.

Jared sighed and quietly said, "It's not that I don't like Mike…and Tom." Then he raised his head and reiterated more loudly for their benefit, "It's not like I don't like you guys."

"We know," Mike replied.

When Tom did not respond immediately, Mike elbowed him, and he reluctantly repeated, "We know."

"And I do want to spend time with you; I always want to spend time with you, Jen," Jared continued. "It's just I just feel bad because Chad doesn't have many friends."

"Hey! Can I get you bitches a drink?" Chad shouted from the bar, causing Jared to suck in his breath.

The chorus of annoyed no's, accompanied by Jensen and the dynamic duo shaking their heads, made Jared want to sink into the floor. He instinctively reached into his shirt pocket for the pack of cigarettes and had one in his right hand, and the lighter in his other, before he caught Jensen's disapproving glare. _Right. Fucking Smoking Ban._ He put the lighter down on the table, but kept the cigarette between his thumb and his index finger as a security blanket.

"You ever think there might be a reason for his lack of abundant friends?" Tom lashed out, clear blue eyes cutting for a brief instant away from Jared to the approaching Chad.

Eyes narrowing, Jared frowned at Tom. Some days he just wanted to squish the other man's head with his perfect black hair, his superhero good looks, and his anti-Jared-and-Chad attitude.

Mike made a "tsk" noise and put a calming hand on Tom's shoulder. "Friends are important to Jared." Then he turned back to Jared. "But you two really should set some quality alone time aside for just the two of you."

Turing the chair around backwards, Chad plunked down at the table to Jared's right with a beer. "Everyone's got their serious puss on. What happened, bitches? They cancel _Gossip Girl_ or something?"

Four pairs of eyes turned toward Chad simultaneously. However, Jared was the only one not looking at him as if he were the biggest moron in the room. Instead, Jared's expression broadcast his need to smack his friend in the back of his head. His fingers even twitched as he stretched each one, resettling them around the empty beer bottle. Chad was definitely exacerbating things.

"What?" Chad asked with a big-eyed shrug.

Jared licked his lips and returned his attention to his boyfriend as Jensen took another swig of his beer and told Jared, "My point exactly."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Jared asked with resignation.

"I shouldn't have had to say anything, Jay." Jensen sighed. "But…I want to spend more you and me time just the two of us and not be doing the same old things we always do," Jensen replied. "We're in a rut."

"I thought rutting was- Ow! "

Jared smacked Chad in the back of the head to stop him from speaking.

The blonde idiot with no filter between his brain covered his loud mouth with one hand and looked genuinely pained. "Dude! Thyou made me bithe my thongue!"

"Then, Shut. Up," Jared hissed. Giving his boyfriend his full attention, Jared asked, "Sorry…what do you mean ‘we're in a rut'?"

Chad glared at him and pushed away from the table. He stomped back toward the bar. "Thamantha! Thared made me bithe my thongue!"

"I mean, I'm tired of coming here every night, babe, sitting around _doing_ nothing, talking about nothing, the five of us all the time," Jensen replied.

Jared looked around the bar. He liked The Winchester. It had a warm, everyone-knows-your-name kind of feel, it served Lone Star beer, and sometimes Samantha took pity on him and fed him more than just bar food. It was a little like a touch of back home. "What's wrong with The Winchester?" he pouted.

"It's okay for the occasional guys' night out, but, Jay, not every night," Jensen pleaded, reaching over and taking Jared's big hand in his. At 6'1", Jensen could not be considered a small man, but next to Jared's hulking 6'4" frame, he looked petite and delicate.

"Yeah, the two of you should get out and do some things you like together," Mike suggested, adjusting the purple beret on his bald head. "Without the entourage." He gestured with a flourish.

"Yeah, like Mike's always dragging me to plays and concerts in the park." Tom hugged Mike closer with one arm, pecking his cheek.

"Right," Mike nodded overly agreeably. "And Tom's always making me go with him to his ball games and golf tourny-things." He threw his arms around Tom and exaggeratedly hugged his boyfriend to him, making Jared realize they were both wearing shirts with the same tiny fleur-de-lis print but Mike's was purple and Tom's was blue. So wrong.

"I don't…really like golf tournaments," Jared replied distractedly, gaping at the ugly matching shirts, unable to look away now that he had noticed it, like watching a car wreck unfold in front of him.

"Well, it doesn't have to be golf," Tom replied, defensively.

"The idea is to get away and do something just the two of you. You know, couple things," Mike reiterated. "Hey… don't you have an anniversary coming up?"

"It was last week actually," Jensen mumbled, pulling back from Jared and fiddling with his beer bottle.

"Oh? Where'd you go?" Mike asked with interest. Looking dreamy-eyed, he propped his chin in his hands, leaning his elbows on the table. "Somewhere cozy and romantic?"

"The Winchester," Jensen replied with bitter taste of disappointment thick in his voice.

Mike sat back. "Oh." Tom and Mike said together.

There was a pregnant pause.

"Jay, I need something more, more than spending every night in The Winchester. I want to _do_ more; I want to do interesting things, go more interesting places. I want you to want to do those things too, babe….Listen to me. I'm beginning to sound like your mother -- not that I would know."

"You haven't met his mother?" Mike sounded incredulous.

Pouting, Jensen shook his head.

Jared defensively replied, "Not _yet_."

"Don't you get along with your mom, Jared?" Tom asked.

"Yes, I-"

"Are you ashamed of your mom?" Tom interrogated.

"No, I love my Momma! "

"Well, then, are you ashamed of Jen?" Tom pushed.

"No! I love Jen!" Eyes going wide, Jared panicked. He reached over and grabbed Jensen's hands, squeezing them tightly to reassure him, hating Tom even more. "Yes, okay. Jen, you should meet my Momma. I know, it's way past due." Jared's cheeks were red. He was completely flustered.

"I don't want to meet your mom because Tom bullied you into it." Pulling his hands away from Jared, Jensen pouted and turned slightly away from Jared in his chair.

Jared whined low in the back of his throat and resisted the urge to bang his head repeatedly on the table. This was supposed to be one of the reasons he did not date women.

Jared studied Jensen. He saw the unhappiness there and realized he had somehow put it there. Jensen was unhappy because of something he had done or not done. He was a little unclear on the why. He searched Jensen's beautiful freckled face for some clue.

Jared was content with his life. He had a wonderful, gorgeous boyfriend, a fun-to-be-around, if incredibly stupid best friend, and a mom who spoiled him. Granted, some things could be better. He could do without his smarmy stepfather, but after 17 years, Mark appeared not to be leaving any time soon. In addition, his job as a Junior Assistant Manager at Kripke's Electronics was less than prestigious, and, Mr. Kripke's sister-in-law, Ms. Gamble, would pretty much have to die have to die before Jared could get a promotion. However, his paycheck covered all of his expenses with enough left over to hang out with his friends and his boyfriend.

Therefore, up until now, he had seen no reason to change a thing.

Except now, his boyfriend was unhappy, and he was pouting, and as adorable as those beautiful lips looked when Jensen pouted, Jared's heart ached just to think Jensen was unhappy with him. He would do anything to make Jensen smile.

"Okay….I get what you're saying, and I'll try to be better."

Jensen sat up, hopeful green eyes meeting ever-changing hazel ones.

"I'll do better," Jared corrected. "Why don't we start with…going out again…for our anniversary…a do-over. Tomorrow night?"

Jensen worried his bottom lip, but there was the hint of a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. We'll go to that Korean barbeque place that you like that cooks the beef right in front of you?" Jared suggested hesitantly, taking Jensen's hands back in his and rubbing his thumbs gently in circles over Jensen's smooth skin.

"All right, Jay. Tomorrow at seven." After letting that sink in, Jensen added a warning, "But don't screw this up. Seriously."

Chad plunked back down in his chair. He had a whiskey glass full of ice held up to his mouth and was sticking his red tongue into the ice. He said something completely incoherent, but it sounded angry and full of expletives.


	2. Act II: "The Burbs"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitsy might be less than 14 inches high when standing still but in her best territorial mode, Jared was certain she was targeting sensitive personal areas of his that he would like to keep. A slight chase ensued as he tried to keep her barky-bitey parts away from anything she might consider "meaty" while he knocked on her owner's door.

**Act II: "The Burbs"**

 

Some normal people might have referred to Jared as a "morning person." Some sane people might have added some colorful adjectives before the phrase. However, the truth was that Jared was simply a generally happy person -- a generally happy person who just also happened to like waking up at the crack of dawn to run a few miles before he started the rest of his day.

He took comfort in the routine of it. Washington D.C. was nearly dead to the world, just on the precipice of waking to whatever crises the day might bring whether they were political, economical, criminal, or individual. For a little while every morning, Jared could just clear his mind of every worry or trouble and just exist. He felt the pull of each step as each large foot hit the concrete to a pace set by _Highway to Hell_ on his iPod, felt the stretch of every muscle, felt the sweat sticking to his t-shirt.

Jared smiled at grumpy, old Mr. Crowder, who just scowled at him before bending over to grab his morning paper and half-mooning Jared in the process. _No! Not again!_ Jared squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the old man hitched his pajama bottoms back up. "Mrs. C have you on a diet again, Mr. C?" Jared asked as he ran past. "Looking...er- healthy." He did not wait for an answer. Mostly he wanted to stab his mind's eye out with a hot poker.

Several houses away, he awkwardly tried not to step on a Bitsy the Cockapoo, whose owner had once again left open the side gate from the yard. Bitsy might be less than 14 inches high when standing still but in her best territorial mode, Jared was certain she was targeting sensitive personal areas of his that he would like to keep. A slight chase ensued as he tried to keep her barky-bitey parts away from anything she might consider "meaty" while he knocked on her owner's door. Of course, in order to avoid becoming a chew toy, he had to keep in constant motion, which meant that once the knocking part was complete, he had to return to weaving across Bitsy's Mom's lawn.

Bitsy's Mom apparently was unappreciative of his oversized footprints on her manicured lawn even if he had saved her precious baby from the dangers of the world outside of the backyard. Jared would try to remember that the next time Bitsy got loose, but he never did. He was always a little bit more concerned about the barky-bitey parts to worry about the lawn.

As he approached the corner, he noted a few of the residents of The Wilshire Singles Community Apartments making the walk-of-shame from the parking lot. He grinned, watching as they shuffled guiltily along, trying to avoid each other's eyes. Seeing these losers always reminded Jared how he was happy those days were over for him. He had Jensen -- warm, caring, dependable Jensen.

Jared tilted his head as he ran and daydreamed about all of Jensen's wonderful qualities. It was more than how hot Jensen was -- because Jensen was totally, walking-on-the-sun, breathtakingly, mind-shatteringly, heart-stoppingly _hot_ \-- but Jensen was also smart, witty, generous, and kind. Jensen loved children and did not mind too terribly much when Jared acted like one. In fact, Jensen was brilliant working with children, which was why he made such a successful pediatric nurse. He looked damned sexy in his nurse's scrubs, and Jared loved listening to Jensen talk medical-speak -- it turned him on like how Gomez Addams went loopy for Morticia speaking French -- and Jared definitely enjoyed playing nurse and patient games. Jensen saw the good in people and constantly tried to be a better person. He made the best uncontrollable sexy noises when he drank his first coffee in the morning, and he secretly loved Ben  & Jerry's Crème Brule at three a.m. in bed. Jensen cried during _Steel Magnolias_ , he snickered through all the stupid parts in _Dodgeball_ , and, although, Jared was absolutely forbidden to mention either, he thought they were equally adorable.

Jared sighed happily.

Then he tripped over the curb.

After the turn back to the house, he caught sight of Mr. Pickerby with his briefcase and his travel mug as he rushed to his mid-class sedan in his suit and tie. In her fuzzy pink bathrobe, Mrs. Pickerby was two steps behind him with her mouth going a mile a minute but Jared had no idea what she what she was saying today since Nickelback's _If Today Was Your Last Day_ filled his earbuds. Whatever she said every day, Mr. Pickerby never seemed happy about it, and clearly it needed repeating every morning.

Farther down the street, Mr. Don't-Touch-My-Sports-Car was polishing his brand new yellow Jaguar. Several mornings in a row, Jared had seen him chasing two neighborhood boys with a soccer ball down the street after they kicked the ball within three feet of the Jag. The way he was touching the car this morning though, made Jared want to tell him to go ahead and fuck it already to get it out of his system. Instead, Jared squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push that image out of his brain. Failing, he tried to replace it with a less disturbing image -- Mr. Crowder bent over to pick up his paper.

At the four-way stop sign on the corner to his block, Jared jogged across the diagonal. A blue Jeep stopped a mere five inches from hitting him, and the irate owner slammed her fist onto the steering wheel horn multiple times, letting the final one last a good thirty seconds, just in case Jared missed the message.

" _...The Russian deep space probe Omega..._ " the Jeep's radio broadcasted.

Jared yanked his earbuds out and gave the driver his best dumbstruck look.

" _...unexpectedly re-entered Earth's atmosphere over Maryland..._ "

She responded with an exasperated expression and gestured for him to get out of the street, which he did.

" _...and broke apart over..._ "

The blue Jeep disappeared down the street as Jared stumbled into the Shop-n-Go convenience store on the opposite corner. He quickly helped himself to the coffee, adding plenty of sugar to the paper cup.

When he reached the register, Jared looked around, easily able to see over the mini-mart shelving. The store clerk was nowhere to be found.

"Aldis?" Jared dug out his money absently and glanced at the headlines on the newspaper rack. They all seemed more World Weekly News than New York Times or Washington Post: "NEW SUPER-FLU SCARES PUBLIC," "GM CROPS BLAMED", "MUTILATED REMAINS", "HAVOC", "MYSTERY VIRUS CLAIMS MORE LIVES." "Aldis?" Just as he reached to pick up one of the crazier-looking papers, Aldis' dark hand slammed down on counter, right on top of the paper.

"Hey, Jared," Aldis greeted.

Startled, Jared jumped back a little and looked up to see Aldis' over-the-top grin.

"No candy today, man?" Aldis asked as another customer stepped into line behind Jared.

Jared glanced behind him and blinked. "Uh- no. man. Not before my Lucky Charms," he offered a weak smile and paid for the coffee. "See you."

As he stepped back into the early morning sunlight, a soccer ball slammed into his right hip. Due to the law stating that every action causes an equal and opposite reaction, Jared stumbled sideways a few steps. Coffee splashed through the tiny hole in the plastic lid, but thankfully, did not spill everywhere.

He glared at the junior high girl in the soccer uniform. "You. Are. So dead," he threatened as the soccer ball bounced away. Last week, she had caused him to drop his coffee cup completely and even though it managed to fall bottom down on the ground, the top had popped off and the coffee had gone everywhere. They were now mortal enemies.


	3. Act III: "The Chad Effect"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared turned to leave the bathroom and came face to face with a grumpy Misha. Even though Jared was easily taller and bulkier than his dark-haired roommate, the angry expression caused Jared to back up a few steps.

**ACT III: "The Chad Effect"**

 

Back at the duplex he shared with Chad and Misha, Jared plopped onto the old, lumpy futon sofa. Unframed movie and band posters decorated the walls of the living room. None of the lamps matched, but some of the decorating shows considered that eclectic – though probably none of those shows recommended using staplers as a method for hanging art. Jared tossed his keys onto the coffee table covered in empty pizza boxes, soda cans, beer bottles and other clutter and found a safe perch for his coffee. With a contented sigh, he picked up the game controller and let his big fingers begin his virtual romp.

" _Player Two has entered the game…,_ " the expensive sound system announced.

"Dude, don't you have work?" Still in the Lazy Boy where Jared had seen him lounging when he left for his run, Chad's fingers danced masterfully over the other game controller.

The only tell of Chad's game frustrations was the appearance of his tongue sticking out between his lips on his right side, something Jared only saw Chad do when he was highly focused.

It was the same expression Chad wore that time in first grade when Chad built the ramp from the scrap wood rescued from his dad's shed and planned an incredible stunt that involved jumping his bicycle over three pet turtles, a fish bowl, and two Transformers; it had not gone particularly well for the turtles or Chad. Last summer, that same expression appeared when Chad pitched a wet t-shirt contest night at The Winchester. However, Samantha insisted the only way that could happen was to have an equally tasteful wet boxers contest night which Chad had to judge; there were just some things Chad could not bring himself to do, even though Tom and Mike had been more than willing to assist. It was one of the very few times that Jensen's friends had been willing to voluntarily spend time with Jared's friend.

" _Player Two has exited the game..._ "

Jared sighed and reluctantly dropped the controller onto the futon. He grabbed his coffee and headed upstairs to shower and get ready for work. _Same shit; different day._

As he clipped on his Kripke Electronics name tag, he glanced up to check his appearance in the mirror. Hair combed for now -– _check_. White shirt, red tie, and khaki pants –- dry, stain-free, and wrinkle free for now –- _check_. He smiled into the mirror, showing off those pearly whites and dimples. Teeth brushed and breath minty fresh –- _check. Awesome._

Jared turned to leave the bathroom and came face to face with a grumpy Misha. Even though Jared was easily taller and bulkier than his dark-haired roommate, the angry expression caused Jared to back up a few steps.

"The front door was left open again last night," Misha stated matter-of-factly. Despite being a nerd, dressed in a three-piece business suit, Misha managed to look intimidating as he stood, arms folded across his chest, blocking Jared's only exit from the little, 70's-style tiled bathroom.

Jared sighed tiredly, dropping his chin to his chest and putting his hands on his hips.

"I'm not accusing you," Misha added stiffly.

Looking relieved, Jared raised his hazel eyes to meet Misha's dark blue eyes. "Good, cuz-"

"I'm saying it was Chad."

"Um- Right..."

"I can't live like this anymore." Anger flashed in Misha's eyes; his words bore a heavy finality. "Look at this place! It's a disaster." Misha flapped his arms in a wide gesture indicating the whole house. "The downstairs is like a pigsty, and we still have that coffee table we ‘rescued' on garbage day." Misha made quote signs with his fingers. "I don't dare buy a new one, because it'll only get trashed. We're not college students any more, Jay."

"Mish…" This reoccurring discussion flared up every time Misha felt wronged or slighted by Chad, or Chad ate the last of Misha's Chunky Monkey ice cream without replacing it.

"He doesn't pay rent and he doesn't help with the bills; he doesn't pay for anything because he doesn't have any money," Misha continued to add to his anti-Chad list.

"He pays for some stuff," Jared defended, leaning on the sink.

"How? Where does he get the money? Dealing drugs?" Misha divulged his condemnation and contempt.

Jared shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. "Okay, so he sells a little pot occasionally. It's not like you haven't done it."

"Yeah, once." Misha held up one finger in Jared's face. "Once. In college...to _you_. You, Jay."

Jared winced, but Misha backed off little having made his point. "Look, I've known him since kindergarten. He's always been there for me, and, right now, he's just going through a rough patch." Jared could tell the touchy-feely friendship-loyalty stuff was not winning points with Misha. "Besides, I like having him around. He's fun." Jared offered a hopeful smile. "He's funny."

"Why? Because he can burp the ABC song backwards without taking a breath? Big fucking deal."

Jared's smile melted into a frown. "Leave him alone," Jared tiredly replied with a roll of his eyes. Jared could remember when Misha was cool, before he started climbing the ladder in whatever corporate career made him so uptight all of the time.

"Okay, I admit, he can be pretty funny on occasion." Misha stepped into the hall of their two-story rental and gestured for Jared to follow. "Like that time we stayed up all night playing Doom, drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade, and doing those vodka Jell-o shots." Misha chuckled as he headed down the stairs ahead of Jared. "And remember, he crank called all those Senators' aides?"

"Yeah..." That had been a good time. The three of them had been completely trashed and maybe a little high. Jared laughed at the memory. "When was that?"

Misha's laughter abruptly halted, and the smile disappeared. "Five years ago."

Jared frown formed just as quickly as Misha's laughter ended. Now, they were at the bottom of the stairs, the sounds from the video game spilled into the foyer from the den.

Misha glared purposefully at Jared like a parent who's child forgot to walk the dog for several days and the inevitable disaster struck; using those clear blue eyes of his, Misha telepathically let Jared know that if he did not clean up the mess himself, Misha was going to get rid of his dog.

Biting his bottom lip, Jared nodded in defeat, pivoted and marched into the den.

Standing behind the leather recliner, Jared considered what to say to referee the current situation. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. "Hey Chad, man, listen...Oh! Top left." Jared leaned over the back of the chair and pointed toward their giant plasma screen.

"Uh-huh," Chad murmured. His body jerked as he expertly thumbed and fingered his avatar into further heroics. All the while, that pink tongue poked out the right side of his mouth.

"I wanted to say...Reload."

"I'm on it."

"Um, since you're...Nice shot!"

"Thanks."

" _Mother-fucker I'm awesome!_ " Rapper S'pose reverberated from deep inside Chad's pants. Startled, Chad missed the shot he was about to make in the game. He quickly put the game on pause. " _No, you're not, dude. Don't lie._ " He pulled the phone from his jeans pocket. " _I'm awesome!_ " Chad glanced at the caller id.

Chad held up two fingers, theoretically for Jared. "Two seconds."

Jared nodded with a grimace and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, dumbass," Chad said into the phone."

 _Got anything?_ " the voice on the other end replied.

"No, man." Chad shook his head.

" _B says you're holding,_ " the voice accused.

"Dude, what did I just say?"

"Nothing at all?" The voice seemed unconvinced.

"I don't even have a nickel for myself," Chad admitted.

" _Fine, later._ "

Chad closed the phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

"Listen, man-" Jared started.

"Chad," Misha interrupted, startling Jared who had no idea how Misha just stealthily appeared right next to him but was seriously considering tying a bell around his neck.

Jared put his hand on Misha's arm to indicate he had the situation under control.

Misha ignored him and continued. "Since you don't have a job right now, could you please straighten this place up a bit?"

"Yeah," Chad replied in a monotone. Without looking at Misha, Chad settled back in the recliner and returned to the game.

Misha glared invisible daggers at the back of Chad's head and then gave Jared an annoyed look. Jared shrugged. Misha added, "And if you happen to listen to the answering machine, can you make a note of everyone's messages, not just your own?"

Chad remained silent. Jared slapped his shoulder.

"Yeah."

"It's not really that difficult, is it?" Misha mocked as he hunted for his brief case. "Writing things down on paper?"

"Nope." Chad replied reluctantly and glared at Jared.

"Good." Misha headed for the door. "See you later, Jared."

Once the door slammed closed indicating that Misha had left for whatever responsible grown-up job it was Misha did all day, Chad turned and flipped off the closed door. "It's not really that difficult...writing things down on paper," Chad mocked.

Jared glared at Chad. "Will you at least do what he asked?"

"I'm not doing anything for him," Chad retorted petulantly as he returned to his game.

"Then do it for me." Jared headed toward the hall to grab his jacket. When Chad failed to reply, Jared whined, "Please? PleasePleasePlease!"

Chad sighed with great exaggeration as if he had been asked to do something impossibly major like bring peace to the Middle East or realistic storylines to daytime television. "Fine!"

"Thank you!" Jared cheerfully called from the hall as the telephone rang. "Can you get that?"

"You get it," Chad replied, eyes glued to the plasma television, fingers working their controller magic.

However, Jared was already outside, closing the door.

The answering machine picked up. "Yo! At the Beep!"

Jensen's voice sounded hesitant through the machine. " _Uh- Jared? Babe? Did you let Chad change the message again? Uh-Anyway…It's going to be a busy day here today, so can you book the table for eight rather than seven? I'll try you at work. Okay? Love you! Bye!_ "


	4. Act IV: Nemesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark’s face suddenly lit up like a night-time carnival as his smile became a wide, pleasant, friendly one. It was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him. Jared had seen the transformation many times at Mark’s car dealership just before Mark approached a "sucker." "We look forward to seeing you tomorrow for dinner. Sherri’s hoping you’ll finally bring your boyfriend this time."

**ACT IV: "Nemesis"**

 

At Kripke’s Electronics, the employees looked like young pod people in their matching attire – white shirts, khaki pants, and red ties. Everyone except for Jared was under twenty-five. Jared was just a little more senior and the only reason he was alone in that honor today was that Ms. Gamble and Mr. Singer had called out sick, leaving him in charge. He was a mixture of nervous and excited at the idea as he bounced on the balls of his feet in front of the service desk with a clipboard in his hands.

"Gather around, everyone!" He called, gesturing to everyone to form a semi-circle around him. He gave them one of his patented Padalecki grins. "Gather around, please! Gather around..." Once he had everyone’s attention, he tapped his red pen as he glanced over the clipboard trying to decide where to begin. "As you know Ms. Gamble is off today, and I’m afraid Bob is feeling a little under the weather too, so I’ll be taking charge as the-"

"Oldest-" Colin Ford was one of those kids in school who was unable to pass up the opportunity to be an asshole if it meant getting a laugh. His one word snagged a few snickers from the crowd.

"-Senior staff member," Jared corrected with a well-directed glare. Sometimes he really hated the summer help. "So, if we can all pull together I know that um-"

The sound of an old-fashioned telephone ringing echoed through the otherwise quiet store. Colin pulled an iPhone from his chest pocket. He neither feigned embarrassment nor did he bother to politely lower his voice. In fact, he did as so many people do when having a conversation on a cell phone, he raised his voice, thinking that would help the person on the other end hear him better. "Hello? Yeah, Brock, man....I was totally trashed last night...yeah, no, I called. He said he doesn’t have any, man...no, not even a nickel for himself...All right. Later." He hit the end button, but then continued to thumb noisy "buttons" on the touchpad. Finally, he stopped and glanced up at Jared, his blue eyes meeting Jared’s hazel ones. "Continue," he said dismissively.

Everyone else had been looking around the store as if the electronics and appliances were the most fascinating new discoveries since the moon.

While Jared had been tapping his pen on the clipboard and glaring at Colin through his public cell phone call, he was imagining Colin’s head exploding. If Colin had any intuition at all, he would have been able to feel the excruciating pain right then. "Thank you," Jared replied sarcastically. "As Mr. Kripke always says, there’s no 'I' in team, but there is a 'U' in suck."

Everyone stared blankly at him.

"No?" Jared blinked. Seeing the blank faces, Jared shrugged, and admitted, "Maybe that one was just for me...Just-." He grimaced. "Look, that’s it." Jared dismissed them. "...and, Colin, turn the phone off. This isn’t a social gathering."

"This isn’t a social gathering," Colin mimicked Jared in a funny voice as the group broke up. Colin caught Jared, standing with arms folded and directing a smoldering glare his way; the boy, whose thick-layered light russet-brown hair fell almost into his eyes, added, "All right, chill out, Grandpa."

"Hey! Wait a minute! I’m only 29, for Christ’s sake!" Jared replied, stepping closer to Colin to loom over him. "How old are you anyway? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Sixteen."

Jared really did hate summer hires. "Oh?" Jared put his hands on his hips, still gripping the clipboard in one, and exhaled, mentally counting to ten. "Okay. Well...I get it, you know. I know you don’t plan to work here forever. I mean, I’ve got other things I want to do with my life too," Jared said with little conviction.

"Yeah? When?" Colin challenged with a knowing smirk.

When Jared did not immediately reply, Colin walked away just in time to answer his ringing iPhone, which was almost drowned out by the sirens of a passing fire truck. Jared frowned. That was the fourth fire truck he had seen that morning.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, an indecisive couple stood in front of the sample LCD televisions, while Jared explained the latest and greatest satellite dish plans. "This one comes with all your local channels and seventy-two of the basic channels in high-definition including ESPN, Disney, CNN, and the Cartoon Network."

As Jared flipped through the channels, scenes of rioting, explosions and general chaos were intermixed with a variety of other mundane television.

" _...what I’m thinking, Pinky..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...bizarre events..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...Yummo!..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...coming after me like this..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...how you doin’?..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...it’s believed to be caused by..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...they killed Kenny..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...bit me..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...top ten countdown..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...scientists are puzzled..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...Tiger Woods..._ "

 _[click]_

" _...if anyone does discover anything..._ "

Wearing a mischievous grin, Colin cleared his throat. "Jared." Colin cheerfully rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Pardon me," Jared said politely to his customers. "Colin, I’m with customers."

Smugly, Colin replied, "But your dad is here." He gestured over to the battery racks by the registers.

"He's not my ‘dad’," Jared recited, using his fingers to form air quotations around the word ‘dad’.

Colin just smiled at him and continued his rocking motion with his hands in his pockets.

"He’s my stepfather," Jared added defensively.

Colin continued the smiling, and the rocking, and the staring.

Jared resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he placed the remote on a shelf and offered the couple a few fliers to examine. With the promise that he would return shortly, he stalked over to the battery racks.

Despite the summer weather, Mark was dressed in a black trench coat, and although Mark currently had his back to Jared, he knew Mark was wearing an Armani or some other designer-tailored suit under it. Jared sighed, bracing himself. "Mark," he greeted awkwardly.

Mark pivoted smoothly to face Jared. "Hello, Jared." Despite almost two decades in the U.S., his voice was still a mixture of Tetley’s and Cornish pasties.

Disapproving smirk plastered on his face, Mark’s light brown eyes flitted up and down Jared. "I presume you’re still coming to dinner tomorrow?"

"Yes," Jared acknowledged, lifting his arms to cross his chest.

"Your bimonthly visit."

"It’s not _bimonthly_. Don’t exaggerate."

With a small shrug, Mark smirked but spared him an argument. "It would be nice if you brought your Mother flowers. Since you somehow managed to forget them on Mother’s Day," Mark suggested, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. The shorter man’s eyes never left Jared’s face.

Jared’s shoulders stiffened defensively. "I plan to."

"Right...don’t get those cheap three dollar bouquets from the Shop ‘n Go again." His thin mouth held a cynical twist. He clearly had poor expectations where Jared was concerned.

"I’m not."

"Well..." Mark studied him another minute before giving Jared a curt nod. "Good then." Mark’s face suddenly lit up like a night-time carnival as his smile became a wide, pleasant, friendly one. It was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him. Jared had seen the transformation many times at Mark’s car dealership just before Mark approached a "sucker." "We look forward to seeing you tomorrow for dinner. Sherri’s hoping you’ll finally bring your boyfriend this time."

"Yeah, okay." Jared attempted to avoid grimacing when Mark clasped him on the shoulder as he walked past. He turned to watch Mark exit the store. Three large Army trucks passed the front of the store going in the opposite direction of the earlier fire truck. Jared frowned.

"I thought you said this wasn't a social gathering." Colin said.

"What?" Jared puzzled, turning around and finding Colin immediately in his personal space. He took two steps back from the kid.

"Why’re you allowed to visit with your dad?" Colin’s serious face was starting to crack into a smirk.

The kid was really starting to piss off Jared. "First of all, he’s not my dad, okay? He’s my stepfather," Jared retorted as he walked in the direction of his customers. Jared really wished people would understand the difference. His mother married Mark, but that did not make Mark his father. Jared already had a father. Mark was an interloper. "And, B, it was a family emergency."

"What? Buying flowers for your mom?" Colin snickered.

Jared wanted to punch him in the face, but he was pretty sure he would lose his job for something like that, even once he explained it and he really had no other career plans for his life at the moment. Besides, with the exception of Colin, he really did like his job. Instead of punching the kid, he reached up and began to rub his temples where the headache was starting. "Colin, unlike some people, I do not find it difficult to keep my work and my social life separate."

"Jared, Jen’s on line two for you," Abigail announced over the P.A. system.

Jared turned to glare at Abigail, who stood behind the Service Desk less than two feet away with her hand still on the microphone.

Colin’s grin got wider, if that was at all possible.

Jared stalked over to the Service Desk, yanked up the phone, and punched the line two button. "Hello," he said in a pleasant non-committal tone.

" _Hey, it’s me,_ " Jensen replied on the other end.

"Hello," Jared repeated with the same tone.

" _Did you get my message?_ " Oblivious, Jensen happily continued.

"Yes." With Colin standing a foot away, right there in Jared’s face, he kept his face stoic. Colin just smirked, but went nowhere.

" _So it's all set then?_ " Jensen excitedly inquired.

"Yes." Jared motioned to Colin to go away, but the kid stayed put.

" _Eight at the Korean barbecue place?_ "

"Yes." Jared glared at Colin.

" _Great, babe! I’m really looking forward to this...and afterward, I’m going to show you how much I’ve been looking forward to it, Jay._ " Jensen whispered the last bit into the phone suggestively, but Jared was too busy trying to stare down Colin to pay much attention.

"All right then. Goodbye, Jen."

After a slight pause, a slightly puzzled Jensen hesitantly replied, " _Uh- Okay. See you later, Jay._ "

Jared hung up the phone. "That was just –um- Genevieve at the Head Office. Just some questions about the daily totals."

Colin rolled his eyes and snickered before turning and walking away.

Jared really, really hated that kid.


	5. Act V: Homeward Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is quite possible at that moment Jared might have had an aneurism. Or maybe he just wished he had. Jared suspected having an aneurism was better than not making reservations for his dinner with Jensen.

**ACT V: "Homeward Bound"**

 

As Jared stood in the flower shop just around the corner from Kripke's Electronics, a man fainted at the bus stop right outside the store. The people standing around him all took a few steps back to give him room or air – Jared was unsure which from his vantage point in the shop window – but none of them appeared in a hurry to help the poor man.

Just then another man caught Jared's attention. This one approached the bus stop crowd at a somewhat speedy pace. People in business suits in downtown D.C. racing to meetings were not an unusual sight, but rather than watching where he was headed, this man was watching over his shoulder as if he were running from Death himself; he tripped right over the fainted man. Deafening sirens blared as two ambulances passed going in opposite directions. Concerned about the two men, Jared took a step toward the window.

"Sir?" the oblivious florist interrupted. " _Sir?_ "

Jared turned back to look at her. He looked slightly dazed.

"Who are these for?" she held up the bouquet of irises, burgundy snapdragons, hot pink and white bi-color tulips, orange-yellow tulips, hot pink germinis, light pink larkspur, lavender and purple matsumoto asters, and light and medium pink hyacinths – she called it "Monet's Garden".

"Oh, um, they're for my mom," Jared replied, glancing once more outside, but noting the chaos had returned to semi-normal levels, he approached the counter.

"Oh? That's so sweet!" Her face lit up with that flirty smile all single women flashed him when they thought he was a gorgeous Mamma's boy but before they discovered he was gay; then they all wanted him to be their "gay BFF" and give them advice on fashion and straight men – neither of which he actually understood. "We have a couple choices for cards." She pointed to the display. "'To a wonderful Mom' or 'Supermom' or 'World's Best Mom'?"

Jared shifted nervously. "I think the first one sounds more mature. What do you think?"

She nodded, curling one lock of her red hair around one of her manicured fingers.

"Okay. That one then."

As he waited for her to ring him up, Jared thought he saw a man in cover-alls in the park across the street pick up a pigeon and bite into it. However, right at that moment a bus passed between the store and the park; when the bus was gone, there was no sign of the man, just scattering pigeons. Jared shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of the delusion, and rubbed his temples again. "Oh, God. This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

"Excuse me, hon?" the flower girl asked.

"Uh, nothing."

  


* * *

  


With the flowers in hand, Jared began the journey home. Traffic jams and multiple car accidents had been a part of the accepted daily routine of Washington D.C. almost since there were more cars than could be counted on two hands in the Capitol, but even Jared had never seen things this bad. He had to switch buses several times on the way home due to traffic immobility.

It had taken him an extra hour and a half just to get into his own neighborhood, and he was still three blocks away from his house. The almost steady sound of sirens was not only nerve-wracking, but it had become eerily common. As he took a drag of a freshly lit cigarette, feeling the stress of the day's events alleviate slightly, he watched a fourth ambulance speed past a fourth wrecked car with a bloody, presumably dead person behind the wheel. Jared slowed his pace as he walked past the wreck, feeling as though he should do something. It was strangely bizarre that no one seemed to be doing anything, just walking by without noticing the car with the dead man, especially with the windows rolled down, the man's limp head pressing the blaring car horn on the steering wheel, and the disturbing news radio vomiting from the speakers.

" _...no word from the White House..._ "

"Oh. My. God! Jared!" A nasally high-pitched squeal broke into his thoughts.

Jared blinked and looked around and slightly down to a normal person's height. "Sarah!" He smiled, revealing those infectious dimples. He knew he looked a little like a big dork with the bouquet tucked under his right arm, while he held a cigarette in his right hand. He pretended he was nonchalant about it.

"I haven't seen you in forever!" Sarah Michelle Prinze looked tiny standing in front of him, even though the tanned socialite could kick his ass with one arm tied behind her back. She ran a program for abused women and children where she encouraged empowerment through martial arts. Because he was such a nice guy, Jared had mistakenly volunteered to be her "live dummy"…once. She made a move as if she might playfully punch him in the stomach but laughed instead when he stepped back, defensively covering the area with his left arm. Instead, she hugged him tightly, and he gave her a reluctant half-bear hug in return. "So? What have you been up to?"

Jared rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Surviving."

"Always a good thing. Are you living round here?" She asked cheerfully.

"Yeah, are you?" Jared nodded.

"Yeah, Freddy and I just bought a place." She grinned excitedly.

"Bought?" Jared sounded impressed.

"I know, sounds all grown up, too grown up – especially for Freddy, right?" She slapped his arm as if it were some inside joke he was supposed to get. "Are you still with... umm-?"

"Jensen," Jared nodded with a smile. "Yeah. Jen's awesome." He took a drag of the cigarette, avoiding thoughts of how far behind he was on the "growing up" part.

"That's great! Congrats! Glad some of us are making it. How long's that been now?"

"Four years, last week." Jared bobbed his head.

"What'd you guys do to celebrate? I want all the details," she grinned mischievously and winked.

Jared rubbed the back of his neck a little uncomfortably. "Actually…we're going out to dinner tonight."

"Really? Somewhere fancy? Dinner and dancing and that romantic shit?"

"Uh- Yeah…" It is quite possible at that moment Jared might have had an aneurism. Or maybe he just wished he had. Jared suspected having an aneurism was better than not making reservations for his dinner with Jensen.


	6. Act VI: The Break-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I-I did not call Mike 'fugly'," eyes wide, Jared stuttered at Jensen. He turned toward the living room and swore to Mike, "I swear, Mike, I never called you 'fugly'."

**ACT VI: "The Break-Up"**

 

Jared was thankful for all of those early morning runs preparing him for the three block sprint to the duplex, because his lungs probably were not burning as badly as they could have been when he slammed open the door and stumbled to the phone book in the foyer. He quickly flipped through the yellow pages in the back, until he found the right number and dialed. He had to try three times, because the first two times the line was busy. Tapping his finger anxiously on the leg of his pants, he tried to catch his breath.

"Hey! Aren't you going to say anything?" Chad demanded from the recliner where he was still playing the same game from that morning.

"About?" Jared panted.

" _Cham Sut Gol...hold please_ ," someone on the other end of the phone said.

"Uh- Nuh- Yeah," Jared tripped over his words, but the person put him on hold without waiting for an answer. Korean elevator music played in his ear over the phone while he waited.

"I cleaned," Chad replied from the recliner.

Stretching the phone cord, Jared leaned into the living room to observe Chad's handiwork. The room held a close resemblance to how he left it that morning. He frowned. "It looks the same."

"I might've had a few beers and some pizza when I was done."

Jared wrinkled his nose. "Huh."

"Do you want your messages?" Chad asked as he put the game on pause and picked up a notepad.

Jared paced the short length of the foyer, if what he was doing could be called pacing. The area was really small and his legs were really long. "Huh?"

"Your mom called about tomorrow night, Jensen called about you two eating out tonight, then your mom called back about me eating her out tonight," Chad smirked wickedly.

" _Yeah, hewo, Cham Sut Gol, sowy to keep you waiting._ "

"Oh. Oh!" Jared stopped short. "Hey, Hi, Um, I know it's really short notice especially with Saturday's being really busy and everything, but could you possibly, please, please save my life, and reserve me a table for two at about eight?" Jared chewed on his bottom lip and crossed his fingers.

" _Sowy. We just gave away last table._ "

"No. NoNoNo! Wait! I'll take anything. Table by the kitchen or wait list?" Jared pleaded. He wished the man could see his puppy-dog face, because he knew his puppy-dog face gave him some sort of pleading bonus fifty percent of the time.

" _Sowy, man._ " The line went dead.

Jared stared at the handset and thought he might throw up.

"I lied about your mom," Chad said quietly, seeing the crushed expression on his friend's face.

"What?" Jared blinked at him.

"What I said about your mom – the last part? I lied," Chad replied.

Nodding and somewhat in shock, Jared set the phone back in the cradle. "Where are we going to eat?"

"The Winchester," Chad replied simply.

Jared stared at him. When his brain finished processing that Chad really had actually suggested the bar, he exploded, "Don't even- !" He ran both hands through his hair, leaving bits and pieces sticking out here and there. With a huff, he picked up the flowers he had discarded when he had raced in the door. He needed to put them in water. "Besides, they don't do real food."

"Samantha and Jeff have a grill out back." Chad followed Jared. "All you have to do is ask Jeff if it's better to start the charcoal piled in a pyramid or spread out-"

"Chad, this is serious! Jen is going to kill me!" Jared turned the kitchen faucet on to run some water into a bowl for the flowers.

The phone rang and Chad, being the closest, picked it up. "Yeah?"

" _Hello, Chad, is Jared there?_ " Jensen asked from the other end.

"Yeah, sure. One sec." Chad tried to look as stoic as possible as he held out the phone for his roommate. "It's for you."

Jared stared at the phone as if Chad were offering him cyanide. If only Chad were offering him cyanide. "Hello?"

" _Hey, babe! What's the plan?_ "

Jared sucked in his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. "Well...you know I love you, right?" He rushed on without giving Jensen a chance to answer. "But there was a problem with the restaurant, Jen. It's been a really crazy day..."

" _What do you mean there was a problem with the restaurant?_ "

Jared opened his eyes and caught Chad starting at him. At least Chad was not laughing or smirking. He actually looked sympathetic for once. "They overbooked. Like the airplanes do? Too many reservations, not enough tables. So, they're full up, and we're out."

There was a pregnant pause while Jensen digested this information. " _But...when we talked earlier you said you had it covered._ "

"Um...Yeah..."

' _You didn't actually make the reservations, did you, Jay?_ " Jensen's voice held no hint of anger, just disappointment.

Jared hesitated. The lie was on the tip of his tongue, but he was just unable to dig himself deeper in that particular direction. He exhaled. "No"

" _So... what is your plan then?_ " Jensen sounded rather unenthused but at least he still wanted to go somewhere.

"Plan?" Jared desperately looked around the room for inspiration and then looked questioningly at Chad.

Chad held his hands up so his fingers and thumbs formed a "W".

Jared wrinkled his nose and shook his head at Chad.

Chad smiled, nodding encouragingly.

" _Uh...The Winchester?_ " Sounding unsure, Jared finally, reluctantly suggested.

Jensen let the dial tone be Jared's answer.

 

* * *

 

Jared stood outside of Jensen's building less than ten minutes after Jensen hung up on him. He gripped the flowers in one hand and anxiously pressed the buzzer on the door to the lobby three times.

" _Hello?_ " Mike's tentative voice queried through the speaker.

"Mike, can you please let me in?" Jared requested, straightening his red tie.

" _I don't think so, Jared. Now isn't a good time,_ " Mike replied using that extra-polite tone he only used when he did not want to be in the middle of a particular argument.

"Oh, come on," Jared pleaded. "Pleeease."

" _Jenny doesn't want to see you, Jared,_ " Tom sniped through the speaker. His tone was close to glee.

"Oh, just open the door!" Jared was losing patience.

" _He doesn't want to see you,_ " Tom repeated. This time there was definite glee.

"I'll climb up the trellis and come through the window, if I have to," Jared threatened.

" _You're not coming in,_ " Tom insisted.

Jared huffed. "Fine, see you in a minute."

" _Don't-_ " Mike began, but the sounds of Jared breathing hard and presumably struggling with the trellis spilled through the speaker.

Mike and Tom actually watched the window above the trellis, for a moment temporarily believing Jared might be foolhardy enough to do it. Except the sound of vines ripping and a few pieces of wood cracking, followed by a loud "Umph" reminded them it was Jared.

A moment later, the buzzer sounded again.

" _Hello?_ " Mike said tentatively into the apartment's security speaker.

"Hey, it's me again," Jared stated the obvious. "I don't suppose I can get some Tylenol and a few dozen Band-Aids."

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later in the apartment, a miserable looking Jared held an ice pack to the back of his head as he leaned on the edge of the small bathroom sink. Mike dabbed the cool, wet washcloth over the more minor scratches on Jared's cheek causing Jared to hiss. "Sorry," Mike soothed before exchanging the washcloth for the tube of antibiotic ointment. "Hold still, hon."

Jared winced as Mike pushed his longish bangs to reveal an angry red cut where a rose bush had expressed how it felt about Jared landing on it and its friends. Antibiotic ointment was generously applied to all of the cuts and scratches on Jared's otherwise boyishly handsome face. Outside the bathroom, doors and drawers slammed occasionally and angry whispers were growing into angry grumbling.

"Now, I have to apologize but all we have are these Superman Band-aids Tom bought for his niece," Mike told Jared as he unwrapped one.

Jared quirked an eyebrow at Mike.

"And it turns out she prefers Batman." Mike carefully applied the plastic blue and red bandage to Jared's forehead. "And why wouldn't she? What girl doesn't love a man with a tool belt who knows how to accessorize?" Mike gave him a wicked grin and a wink and stepped back to admire his work. "Well, I'm no nurse--" Mike frowned. "But you'll be- Uh, You'll live, Jared."

Jared smiled weakly. He slowly lowered the ice pack and placed it in Mike's hands. Squeezing Mike's hands gently, Jared said, "You know, Mike...without Tom's ego making it impossible to ignore anything else, it's so much easier to see what a sweet guy you are. He's way too gaudy for you." He bent down and kissed Mike chastely on the cheek. Then with a sigh, he headed into the apartment, bracing for the war zone.

Stunned, Mike watched him for a moment before heading into the living room where he found Tom pacing. Mike attempted to get Tom to sit on the sofa, but Tom shook his head. They ended up miming an argument where Mike thought they should go to their room and stay out of the middle of Jensen and Jared's private argument, but Tom thought it was best to stay in the living room where they could offer open support in case Jensen needed them. Mike suspected Tom had other motives.

Jared found Jensen in his bedroom tucking an emerald green, cotton, button up shirt into impossibly tight black jeans. Jared's breath caught. The man was so gorgeous he made Jared's brain stutter. When Jared caught Jensen glaring at him in the full-length mirror, his brain stuttered back into motion.

"Can we just talk about this?" Jared begged. "Come on, let's go out."

"To the Winchester?" Jensen spit out as he pulled on his favorite cowboy boots.

"You want to?" Jared asked, sounding hopeful.

"No! I don't fucking want to go to The Fucking Winchester!" Jensen grabbed his wallet from his dresser and shoved it into his back pocket.

"Okay," Jared replied meekly as he stumbled back a few steps into the hall as if struck.

"It's not the only fucking place in the world, Jared! In fact, if it were the last place on earth, it would still be too fucking soon!" Jensen stalked into the hall, glaring at Jared as he passed him.

Jared followed him like a puppy. "We can go to The Olive Garden. They have all-you-can-eat salad and breadsticks, and that Chocolate Lasagna you like."

Jensen stopped in the bathroom to update his hair gel. "I'm going out with Mike and Tom."

"Let's go together," Jared suggested desperately.

"What? _You_ wanna hang out with _my_ friends? A fugly drag diva and an ass munch?" Jensen hissed.

"Well, that was harsh," Tom grumbled from the peanut gallery in the living room. His hands fisted at his sides.

"I-I did not call Mike 'fugly'," eyes wide, Jared stuttered at Jensen. He turned toward the living room and swore to Mike, "I swear, Mike, I never called you 'fugly'."

Mike worked as a "hostess" at Lucky Cheng's, where all the waitresses were drag queens and the bus boys and some of the bartenders were drag kings. In addition, every few months, Miz Michelle Rose performed in a slightly burlesque, all-drag review. He would never deny he could go diva on anyone's ass whenever someone deserved it. Stinging as the comment might be, he could tell Jared was sincere in his concern for his feelings. Biting the inside of his cheek, he matched Jared's gaze and shrugged away the comment with an invisible hair toss.

Jared felt a little better when he saw Mike shrug at him. He did in fact call Tom an "ass munch" and numerous other things too on more occasions than he could count, and he refused to regret it. "Come on, Jen," Jared pleaded. "Let's just go somewhere and talk about this. We'll work it out; I promise."

"You promise? You promised you'd stop smoking when I did." Jensen stomped out of the bathroom and poked Jared's chest pocket. There was a plastic crinkling sound where Jensen's finger disturbed the pack of cigarettes. Jensen stalked toward the living room and turned around to continue angrily yelling.

Jared, who had been following, had to step backwards to avoid being hit by the wild, wide gesturing.

"You promised you'd try drinking red wine instead of beer! You promised you'd go back to night school! You promised we'd go on vacation!"

"We went to Cozumel," Jared quickly inserted.

"We _met_ in Cozumel!" Jensen shot back, absolutely enraged by the absurdity of Jared's stupidity. "At a night club."

Jared opened and closed his mouth a couple times trying to turn that into something in his favor, but he found it was hopeless.

"You promised things would change."

"You promised us TIVO," Mike added.

"I'm still working on that," Jared grumbled.

Mike nodded and stepped back into the peanut gallery.

"Look, I can give up smoking whenever I want." Jared pulled out the cigarette pack and held it up for everyone to see. Then he tossed it deftly into the trashcan on the other side of the sofa. "See? I don't need them." Thanks to the smoking bans, he was running out of places to smoke anyway. "Wha-What were the others?"

Jensen just stared at him and finally shook his head. "It's not enough, Jared." Jensen stalked out of the room.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jared rubbed his temples. _Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God._

"I think you've run out of luck, Jared," Tom grinned, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Oh, shut. The. Fuck up, Tom!" Jared snapped, whirling to face him. "If you're so in love with him; you go out with him."

Tom had the good grace to pretend to be shocked by Jared's outburst. "Wha- What do you mean?" He moved away from Mike and blinked innocently first at Jared then at Mike. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mike gaped at Tom for a moment before stomping off to their room and slamming the door behind him. The click of the lock was audible.

One corner of Jared's lips curled up as Tom's brilliant blue eyes met Jared's eyes. Then Jared pick up the flowers he abandoned on the end table when he arrived as he headed back toward Jensen's room.

Wearing a deep frown, Jensen sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees.

"I brought you these," Jared said quietly as he entered. He handed the Monet's Garden bouquet to Jensen.

Jensen's lips curled into a small, wary smile as his fingers curled around the bouquet. He smelled the fresh flowers, taking in the lovely, heady scent. Then he noticed the card. "'To a wonderful mom'?"

 _Damn._ Jared palmed his forehead and instantly regretted it as he was instantly reminded of rose bush revenge. "Owww!" Jared closed his eyes a second, took a breath, and then met Jensen's eyes. "Yeah, - um- that's because...last night- you know, I thought it would be funny- because of what you said about how you don't want to sound like my mom, and...it's just a joke...a bad one I guess," he rambled.

"They're for your mom, aren't they?" Jensen studied his face.

Jared sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. "Yeah."

"Smooth, babe." Jensen handed the flowers back to Jared.

"Sorry. I'm really fucking everything up today no matter what I do." Jared leaned forward so he too was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees.

They sat in awkward, miserable silence for a few minutes.

Jensen sighed and did not look at Jared. "Look, if I don't do something, I'll wind up in that fucking bar every night for the rest of my life like all those miserable, old fuckers, drinking myself to death, wondering what the hell happened."

Barely able to breathe, Jared slowly turned his head to look at Jensen. "What do you mean 'do something'?"

From beneath those impossibly long lashes, Jensen looked over at Jared and sighed.


	7. Act VII: Dazed and Confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah, Jay, you're a good guy," Jeff added. "And I'm not into that thing, but I hear things from behind the bar, and the word is that you're –uh- quite a looker. I mean, probably not right now, with all the snot and the goofy Band-aid and all, but...usually." Jeff reached over to the nearest table and grabbed a napkin to hand to Jared.

**ACT VII: "Dazed and Confused"**

 

Sniffling, Jared dropped the flowers on a table just inside The Winchester as he entered. The door slammed behind him, cutting off the sound of distant sirens.

Despite the chaos of the city outside, quite a few of the regulars were settled into their usual places for the evening. A pair of old veterans animatedly continued a year-long argument over V-Day battle movements, while their wives plus one played an on-going game of Mexican dominoes at a near-by table. A well-dressed group of people from a nearby law-firm flitted between the bar and a set of tables as they wound down from a stressful day. Sitting at the bar were five bikers who were somewhere between arriving in town and leaving for somewhere new. A couple of students from the university had staked out a few booths in the back because beers and studying were always a good mix.

Wearing barely anything, as usual, Alona and Sandy stood at the far end of the bar, having their usual couple of drinks to loosen up before heading to work the "night shift". They waved at Jared, blowing him kisses and giggling. Jared never understood why, but straight women were like moths, and he was the platonic, gay flame.

Chad and Jeff Morgan, Samantha's trophy husband, looked up from where they were huddled at the bar, and, based on their matching expressions, they were no doubt deep in some philosophical discussion regarding the merits of the push-up bra versus the bra-less fashion statement. When Chad saw the devastated look on Jared's face, he skipped the snarky remark on the tip of his tongue regarding the Superman Band-aid on Jared's forehead. Instead, he grabbed Jeff's shirt and announced, "Code Red, dude. We've got a man down!" Chad might have already had a few at this point.

"What?" Jeff looked up and caught sight of Jared. Frowning, Jeff ran a hand through his dark brown hair. "What happened to you, kid?"

"Jen dumped me," Jared blurted out as he tried to pull his tie loose. Hearing the words out loud made it suddenly real. He fell into a chair at an empty table as the tears that he had held at bay during the subway ride from Jensen's apartment to the bar suddenly spilled out of him.

Chad and Jeff gaped at him a full sixty seconds before they burst into action. "Let me get you something to- ah-" Jeff nodded once at Jared and then moved quickly around the bar to fill some glasses with beer from the best on tap. He glanced over at his wife. Samantha gave him a questioning look as she poured shots for several lawyers at the other end of the bar. Jeff mouthed "dumped," causing Samantha to frown.

At the same time, Chad quickly grabbed a chair, twirled it around and sat on it backwards in front of Jared. "What happened? Jen can't have dumped you over the whole dinner thing."

Unable to speak through the crying and sniffling, Jared nodded dramatically.

"What? That's fucking stupid. It's just a little screw up," Chad shook his head. "Shit happens."

Jeff handed Jared a pint. "Drink this," his deep, gravelly voice demanded. "Then breath." Jeff handed Chad a pint too before pulling up a chair to sit on the other side of Jared. Jeff tried not to stare at the blue and red plastic strip on Jared's forehead beneath the fringe of brown hair, but really it just made the poor kid look more pathetic.

Jared gulped some of the beer and then, as Jeff advised, tried to catch his breath. He felt as if someone had ripped his heart out and set his lungs on fire. He gasped for air and wiped at his eyes with the back of his free hand.

Jeff awkwardly patted Jared on the shoulder comfortingly. His face grim, he said, "That's right, just breathe. It'll be all right." Jeff took a big swallow of his beer and looked at Chad with a raised eyebrow.

Chad caught Jeff's eye and slowly nodded. "Yeah, man. Everything's gonna be all right, Jay."

"How?" Jared rasped, throat sore from crying.

Chad looked a little surprised by the question.

"How's it going to be all right, Chad?" Jared continued. "How can anything be all right with Jensen not in my life?"

"Fuck him." Chad shrugged. "He dumped you."

"Yeah, Jay, you're a good guy," Jeff added. "And I'm not into that thing, but I hear things from behind the bar, and the word is that you're –uh- quite a looker. I mean, probably not right now, with all the snot and the goofy Band-aid and all, but...usually." Jeff reached over to the nearest table and grabbed a napkin to hand to Jared.

Jared's fingers wrapped around the offered napkin. He stared blankly at it for a few seconds. He absently reached up to touch the Superman Band-aid with a frown and let his fingers drift to the other scratches on his face. He shook his head. "No...I screwed up. I mean, I really screwed up. Jensen is completely right. I should have done everything different." Jared sniffled loudly, sucking in a lot of snot before lifting the napkin to wipe his nose.

Jeff finished his beer. "You can't change who you are, kid, and anyone who tries to change you is selfish and short-sighted," he said sagely. "If Jensen didn't love you just the way you were, then he wasn't the one for you."

Jared gaped at Jeff.

"What? I watch Oprah." Jeff stood and headed for the bar with his empty glass.

Jared shook his head in disbelief. "No. Jen only ever encouraged me to improve myself, and he only wanted to spend more time with me, he wanted us to try out new things, and I totally screwed it all up. I- I should have gone back to school and got a real job —"

"You have a real job, you dumbass," Chad replied angrily.

"You know what I mean," Jared sniffled. "And I should have asked Jen to move in together years ago."

"Well, that one goes both ways. It's not like he couldn't have asked you. I mean, the thing with gay love is you both wear the pants in the relationship," Jeff commented as he returned with three beers even through Jared's and Chad's glasses were not empty.

Jared grunted a sound of non-committal and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I should have gone on vacation with him."

"Where?" Jeff asked.

"Anywhere he wanted," Jared sighed.

Chad slammed a fist onto the table next to him, startling Jared and Jeff and causing more than a few bar-goers to stare their way. Once he had Jared's attention, he angrily grabbed Jared's shirt and pulled him forward so they were eye to drunken eye. "Fuck. Him. Nothing you did was ever going to be good enough for him and his loser friends, Jay. If he broke up with you after four years over some restaurant screw up, he was just looking for any old lame ass excuse. It has nothing to do with you. He's a bitch, and he doesn't deserve you. You get it?"

Jared stared at Chad's angry face. He understood what Chad said. He understood what Jeff said. He even understood what Jensen had said. Right now, he wanted to believe Chad and Jeff, because his heart was shattering into tiny, jagged pieces, and it would transfer all the blame to Jensen, but somehow in his heart of hearts he knew Jensen's words were the truest. He should have seen it coming, but he tended to run through life wearing rose-colored blinders. Because of his own stupidity, he had lost the most important person in the world to him.

If he were one of the last two people on the planet, he would want the other one to be Jensen, only now, Jensen would refuse to even talk to him.

"Got it," Jared replied just to get Chad to let go of his shirt.

The jukebox switched from Barry McGuire singing _Eve of Destruction_ to Chicago, Peter Cetera's voice crooning from the speakers around the bar.

If you leave me now,  
you'll take away the biggest part of me.

"Oh, God!" Jared buried his face in his hands. "Who put that on?"

"Ohohoh...no baby please don't go.  
And if you leave me now,"

"It's on random." Chad finished his beer and glared accusingly at Jeff.

"You'll take away the very heart of me.  
Ohohoh...no baby please don't go."

"Got it." Jeff stood and stalked to the jukebox.

"A love like ours is love  
that's hard to find"

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, shoved one into the side of jukebox, and twisted it.

"How could we let that slip away? --"

The offending music abruptly stopped as Jeff punched a set of buttons. Jeff twisted the key again and yanked it out.

"Hun, whatcha doin?" Samantha called from behind the bar. Her voice sounded sweet, but the tone was playfully distrustful.

Jeff smirked as country twang guitar reverberated from the speakers. "Settin' the mood." He turned around to lean against the jukebox, grinning at her as if he were the sexiest thing in the room in his dark blue jeans and crisp, cornflower blue, button down shirt.

Drying a glass with a white cloth, she rolled her eyes and shook her head as the singing started. However, the faintest hint of a smile crossed her pink glossy lips as she leaned against the bar to watch the show.

"We got winners,  
we got losers,  
chain smokers and boozers,  
we got yuppies,  
we got bikers,  
we got thirsty hitchhikers.  
and the girls next door dress up like movie stars.  
mmmm, I love this bar."

Swinging his hips Elvis-style for Samantha, Jeff sang along as he walked back to the break-up pity party. Jared and Chad both stared at him as if they were watching a train wreck. Chad thought he might want to poke his eyes out with the toothpicks on the bar, but Jared's brain had gone right to the blue screen of death, requiring a reboot.

"Better?" Jeff asked as he picked up his half-finished beer. When neither answered, he looked from Chad to Jared, then touched Jared's shoulder. "Jay?"

"We got cowboys,  
we got truckers."

Jeff's touch was the theoretical symbolic push of the reset button, and Jared's brain immediately rebooted. He blinked at Jeff. "Yeah." Jared took a big sip of his beer so as to not have to look Jeff in the eyes, or at his hips or anywhere really. "Yeah, better."

"Broken-hearted fools and suckers,  
we got hustlers."

"You know what we should do tomorrow?" Chad finished his pint and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jeff continued to sing along or hum along when he was sipping his beer.

"We got fighters."

When Jared finally looked at him with a raised eyebrow, Chad continued, "Keep drinking."

"Early birds and all-nighters."

Jared wrinkled his nose and shook his head; he took another sip of the beer he had been given.

"And the veterans talk about their battle scars.  
mmmm, I love this bar."

"No, man, hear me out. We'll have Bloody Mary's first thing, then we'll grab a bite to eat at that sports bar on Willow..."

"I love this bar.  
It's my kind of place."

"...do some shots at The Pussy Kats, and finally stagger back here for beer and good company." Chad tilted his head toward Jeff, who was grinning and humming while he sipped on the second beer he had brought to the table for Jared.

"Just walkin' through the front door puts a big smile on my face.  
It ain't too far.  
Come as you are.  
mmmm, I love this bar."

Eyes still red and teary, Jared shook his head and sniffled. "No." His decision had nothing to do with the fact that The Pussy Kats was a strip club full of uninteresting, moving naked girl parts or that Chad lost what was left of his brain every time he went in there. He simply wanted to spend the whole day wallowing in self-pity alone in his room listening to emo music and dwelling on all the things he should have done.

"I've seen short skirts,  
We got high techs."

Samantha set three more beers down on the table next to them. She frowned at Jared and ran her hand through his thick, shaggy hair. "What's the matter, kid? You look like someone ran over your puppy."

"Blue collar boys and rednecks.  
We got lovers, lotsa lookers."

"Come on, man," Chad begged, sipping the beer.

"I've even seen dancin' girls and hookers.  
And we like to drink our beer from a Mason jar."

Lazily leaning back in his chair, Jeff glanced up at his wife, "Jen dumped us."

"Mmmm, I love this bar."

Jared was secretly thankful the music slipped into a lengthy interlude, which put an end to Jeff's off-key American Idol tribute.

Samantha's frown deepened and she squeezed Jared's shoulders as she lightly leaned against his chair from behind. "Alright, talk to me." Her fingers continued to brush through his hair.

Jared leaned his head back against her. His hair fell away from his face, revealing the rosebush scratches and showing off his manly Superman Band-aid, and Samantha peered directly down into those pained hazel eyes. She smoothed the stray strands of hair away from his forehead and gave him an almost motherly expression, which was uncharacteristic for the hard-ass bartender. Jared sighed hopelessly. "He said if he stayed with me, he'd wind up in here every night for the rest of his life like those miserable fuckers-" Jared gestured at some of the more senior regulars. "-wondering what the hell happened." Jared sniffled.

Samantha pursed her lips together, her hands pausing in Jared's hair.

"Now, Sam-" Jeff started to offer some comfort.

Holding her hand up, palm facing Jeff in the universal "talk to the hand" gesture, Samantha shook her head. He closed his mouth.

She appeared to be choosing her words very carefully as she caressed Jared's tear-stained cheeks. "Well, Jay, honey...you know, I took this bar over from my daddy when he died; I work hard to keep it in the black. I love doing it, and it's very important to me."

Jared made a motion that was sort of a nod despite his awkward position.

"But, kid, it ain't my whole life." She glanced over at Jeff and a soft smile crossed her lips.

Jeff grinned and winked at her. Well, he tried to wink at her, but he was a little too drunk for winking so it was more of a blink.

Samantha shoved Jared's head back into the correct position and she bent down to speak directly in his ear. "The way I see it, you got two choices: man up and go crawling back on your hands and knees and beg for forgiveness, or be a man and get over it. Either way, stop crying in your beer. You're depressing my customers." She ruffled Jared's hair, before walking back to the bar, leaving the three men in various stages of drunkenness.

"Well, that was a little harsh," Chad hiccupped.

"That's my girl," Jeff boasted. "Tells it like it is."

Jared finished his beer, looking thoughtful.

Jeff suddenly clapped his hands together startling both younger men. Rubbing, his hands together, he announced, "I got just the thing for this kind of occasion." Jeff stood, swayed a bit, and headed toward the bar.

Jared wondered just how many beers Jeff and Chad had before he arrived. He was really behind. He should try to at least catch up a little. He picked up one of the beers Samantha brought and guzzled half the pint.

With a mischievous grin, Jeff returned with three shot glasses and a bottle of Alma Mia tequila. "I snuck this back on our last trip to London. They don't import it to the U.S." Both Chad and Jared looked curious as Jeff opened the bottle and began to pour. "And Jay here looks like he needs some outlawin' tonight."

Chad grinned. "I like the sound of that."

"Outlawin'?" Jared sounded doubtful. In fact, he thought he might laugh.

"Yeah. We're three young guys. Two of us is single. There's got to be some trouble we can get into tonight." Jeff clunked the bottle onto the table and picked up one of the shot glasses.

Chad picked up one of the shot glasses and held it up for a toast. "To outlaws and trouble-makers."

Jared picked up the last shot glass and hesitated. "To...um- yeah, whatever." He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.

With a laugh, Jeff clinked his shot glass with both of theirs. "To outlaws ‘n' trouble-makers."

An hour or so later, The Winchester was mostly empty and the bottle of Alma Mia was gone, replaced with the cheapest bottle of Jose Cuervo. Jared was sitting under the table, because Chad had knocked him off his chair, and he had not cared enough to figure out how to climb back into it the third time. Chad had his head down on the table like a first grader during quiet time, his hand still curled tightly around the shot glass. Strangest of all, Jeff sat in his chair looking very sober except he was leading the other two in their third rendition of _Beer for my Horses_ , and he was the most off-key. Chad was trailing about three words behind Jared and Jeff, making it sound like a round.

"Justice is the one thing you should always find  
you got to saddle up your boys  
you got to draw a hard line  
when the gun smoke settles we'll sing a victory tune  
we'll all meet back at the local saloon  
we'll raise up our glasses against evil forces  
Singing whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.--"

Right in the middle of singing, Jared suddenly recognized the song actually playing on the jukebox. "Oooo! Ooooo! I Iurve this song," he slurred. He attempted to stand but banged his head into the table and fell back on his ass, laughing and grabbing his now aching head. "Sssstop sssinging! Thisss isss a good ssssong!"

"thinking how you did me wrong  
I grew strong  
I learned how to carry on."

Abruptly, Jeff and Chad noticed the song too. _I Will Survive_ by Gloria Gaynor.

"and so you're back  
from outer space."

"Oh, fucking awesome!" Chad slammed his shot glass down on the table. Then he stood so suddenly his chair fell backwards. "Totally should be your song tonight, Jay-man."

"I just walked in to find you here  
with that sad look upon your face."

Jeff chuckled as Chad started to disco dance _Saturday Night Live_ -style. "All right! Shake it, baby!"

"I should have changed my stupid lock  
I should have made you leave your key."

Jared crawled out from under the table to get a better view. Once free from viewing obstacles, he plopped his ass back on the floor to enjoy the show, shimmying to the beat while he watched from beneath heavy-lidded eyes.

"If I had known for just one second  
you'd be back to bother me  
Go on now go walk out the door  
just turn around now."

The beat of the music was irresistible. First, Jeff's foot tapped along, but, within a few seconds, he joined Chad in their invisible discothèque.

"'cause you're not welcome anymore  
weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye."

Jared clapped happily as if this was a private show just for him.

"you think I'd crumble  
you think I'd lay down and die  
Oh no, not I  
I will survive  
as long as i know how to love  
I know I will stay alive  
I've got all my life to live  
I've got all my love to give  
and I'll survive  
I will survive."

Jeff really enjoyed himself, singing along, adding hand motions to go with the words. However, all the fun ended when he decided to hop up on the bar _Coyote Ugly_ -style, which was the straw that broke the camel's back for his wife.

"Okay, that's it! Get your crazy, drunken ass down off my bar!" Samantha yelled smacking that very ass hard. Her expression did not look playful. She flipped a switch behind the bar and the jukebox went dead, lights and all.

The silence would have been deafening except Chad was still singing his way through a striptease. "It took all the strength I had not to fall apart-" He rolled his hips in one direction and one shoulder in a different direction before slowly twirling.

Jeff scrambled off the bar, nearly falling on his ass.

Jared climbed to his feet and suddenly had the strangest thought that he was too tall for the room. He swayed as he attempted to gain his balance, holding onto the nearest table. Had he always been this tall? He thought he would have remembered the floor being that far away before. _Huh._

Chad had his shirt unbuttoned and was proceeding to slip an arm out of it. "-kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart-"

Samantha cleared her throat. Jeff and Jared both blinked at her. "You." She pointed at Jared. "Get. Him." She pointed at Chad. "Out. Of. Here." She turned to look at her husband. "You. Upstairs. Now." Drunk as he was, Jeff still knew his wife's angry face, and he was not going to argue.

Jared nodded and quickly grabbed Chad.

"Dude!" Chad attempted to escape Jared's grip. "Don't be so grabby. I'm not your type!"

"Chad," Jared warned under his breath but with slightly slurred words. "Put your shirt on and get out of here before Samantha kicks your ass."

Chad blurrily looked around the bar and saw the pissed look on Samantha's face. "Shit." He yanked his shirt on as he followed Jared to the door.

"Night!" Jared called back to Samantha and Jeff, though Jeff was disappearing up the stairs to their apartment above the bar. "And thanks...for –um- " Jared cleared his throat and exited quickly.

Chad nodded. "What he said." He yanked the door closed behind him and staggered back a few steps, bumping into Jared.

Jared moodily watched a couple make out in the alley across the street. The kissing noises they made were sloppy slurppy sounds, the kind lovers made when they were needy, hungry for each other, desperate for the taste of each other, practically wanting to take a bite out of each other, when they just could not get enough. Jared sighed, fully depressed again, thinking how much he wanted Jensen just then and how he would be happy just to cuddle, to hold him close, to breath in the smell of him. Jared sighed heavily.

"Oh, man, don't start that shit," Chad said. He fumbled a little trying to button his shirt. "You were having fun without him, weren't you?"

"Don't, man."

Chad grabbed his arm and pushed him in the direction of their house.

The night was eerily quiet for the city, especially after the chaos of the previous day. No random cars passed, no distant sirens disturbed the silence, and even the neighborhood dogs seemed to be asleep in their doghouses all at once. Yet, Jared could not put a mental finger on what was so odd about the whole thing, especially with all of the fuzziness in his head, and Chad chattering.

As they walked, Chad tried to comfort his best friend, even if his words were a little slurred. "Look, I'm not gonna give you a pep talk about how there's plenty more fish in the jungle-"

Jared's brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"-I'm not gonna say if you love him, set him free-" Chad spread his arms and flung them upward to symbolize setting Jensen free and stumbled forward a little. "-I'm not gonna sling a bunch of crappy Hallmark platitudes, but I will say this...it's not the end of the world."

A loud series of clangs startled both of them, causing them to look down a side street. In the poorly lit street, they saw an older man lurching over the scattered trash from a metal garbage can. The man called something illegible to them that sounded more like a garbled moan than anything else. Hearts still beating sixty miles-per-hour, Chad and Jared turned to look at each other. When they saw how wide-eyed and terrified each other looked in their drunken stupor, they both broke into giggles and snickers.

Arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, they drunkenly continued their way home. "I lurve you, man," Jared said before giving Chad's cheek a big sloppy wet kiss.

Chad made a disgusted sound and tried to push Jared away. "Dude! Don't put your gay on me! I told you, I'm not your type."

Jared giggled and hugged Chad to him tighter. After another block, Jared said, "I lurve you, man."

  

  


* * *

  


 

 Once they found Misha's stash of beer, Chad and Jared continued their pity party at the house. Chad had just turned up the volume on Saint Eve's "It's the End of the World as We Know It" when a livid Misha, wearing Donald Duck pajamas, appeared in the living room.

As Misha pushed him away from the sound system, Chad stumbled backward onto the futon. "What? You wanna dance? All you had to do was ask!"

Misha punched the CD open button. When the drawer slid smoothly out, he grabbed the CD.

The silence caught goofy, dancing Jared's attention. "Wait-" He began, but not soon enough to stop Misha from flinging the CD across the room and amazingly right through an open window. Jared winced. "That was yours," Jared whispered.

"It's three in the fucking morning!" Red in the face, Misha screamed at Jared, and Jared tried not to make the connection between a screaming Misha and a screaming Donald Duck.

"It's Saturday!" Jared retaliated.

"No, it's not," Misha replied. "It's fucking Sunday, and I've got to go to fucking work in five fucking hours, because every other fucking idiot is fucking sick!"

Chad and Jared stared silently at Misha without an appropriate comeback.

"Now can you see why I'm so fucking angry?" Misha growled. Misha's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Yes," Jared said quietly.

Misha started purposely for the hallway.

"Hey, uh- Mish, look." Jared ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. We had too much to drink."

"We split up with Jen tonight," Chad added informatively.

"Just...keep it down," Misha ordered.

"Dick," Chad said under his breath just as Misha stepped into the hall.

"What?" Misha stepped back into the room and glared at Chad.

"Nothing," Chad replied innocently.

Misha stared at Chad with disbelief. Then Chad smirked. Screeching like a howler monkey, Misha launched at Chad, hands going for Chad's neck. Chad tried to kick Misha in the balls.

"Stop it! Just stop it! We're all supposed to be friends!" Jared yelled as he pulled them apart.

"He's not _my_ friend. He's a fucking moron," Misha replied, still trying to reach Chad around Jared.

"What's that s'posed t' mean?" Chad asked, dodging Misha.

"I mean you do nothing to contribute to the world at large! You're a fucking waste of space, a burden on society! All you do is bring down the value of everything around you," Misha snarled.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Jared insisted, melodramatically.

"Stop defending him, Jay. All he does is hold you back." Misha backed away from Jared and Chad. Then a wicked smile crossed Misha's face. He looked up at Jared as if he suddenly understood everything. "Or is that the point? It's just easier to have someone around who's a bigger loser than you?"

"What do you mean?" Jared puzzled, while Chad glared at Misha.

"You know exactly what I mean." Misha nodded with that wicked, knowing smile. "It was Jensen who did the dumping, wasn't it?"

Jared's devastated expression was all the answer Misha needed.

"Get your life in order, Jay." Misha pointed a finger right in Jared's face. "You have to grow up some time, and you need to ask yourself, who's going to be there when you do. Chad?" Misha scoffed, shaking his head.

"Dude, what happened to your hand?" Chad asked, pointing to the bandage on Misha right hand.

Still miffed, Misha shrugged. "I got mugged on the way home from work."

"By who?" Jared asked.

"Some crackheads. One of them bit me."

"Why?" Chad asked, appalled.

"I don't know; I didn't stop to ask them!" Misha walked toward the stairs in the hallway. "Now...I've got a splitting headache, and your stupid music isn't helping...And the front door is open... _again_!" The sound of the door slamming shut echoed throughout the house.

"Dick," Chad murmured. "The next time I see him, he's dead," Chad stated before turning to crash on the futon.

Jared stumbled the few steps over to the answering machine and pressed the play button.

" _Uh- Jared? Babe? Did you let Chad change the message again? Uh-Anyway... It's going to be a busy day here today, so can you book the table for eight rather than seven? I'll try you at work. Okay? Love you! Bye_!"

 _[Beep]_

" _Hello, Puppy. It's me, Mom. Your dad mentioned you might be coming to dinner tomorrow, which is a nice surprise. Will you be bringing Jensen with you this time? We can't wait to finally meet him...Oh, and I was wondering there's anything special I should make for him, because you know these days not everyone eats meat._ "

 _[Beep]_

Jared wrote out a post-it note to himself with reminders of things he wanted to do the next day.

  

  1. Sort Life Out
  

  2. Mom's for dinner
  

  3. Get Jen back
  



 

Then he plopped down in the recliner where he planned just to rest his eyes for a moment before going upstairs to bed.

 


	8. Act VIII: Disturbia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staring at the bloody, gory body in their backyard, pale-faced Jared and Chad stood frozen in place. For once, Chad had no words. Jared had just murdered a drunk girl in their backyard. No one would believe it. Chad was the more likely suspect of the two; Jared was too afraid of girl cooties. Jared covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a gasp.
> 
> Then everything got so much worse.

**ACT VIII: "Disturbia"**

  
Jared neither looked nor felt like a morning person that Sunday when he started his run. In fact, he especially felt nothing like his usual happy self, or even a person really. Nor was the time anywhere near the crack of dawn.

However, as he tilted his neck from side to side to pop the kinked joints where he had slept entirely in the wrong position, he took comfort in the routine of his morning run. He took comfort that Washington D.C. was still nearly dead to the world at this time on a Sunday morning, and at least that one thing in his life remained unchanged.

His heart beat at the same pace as his feet the pavement, long limbs and tight muscles easily falling into the familiar repetitive rhythm. His faded _Armageddon_ t-shirt stretched too tight across his back with each pull forward. Sweat beaded his forehead causing his long brown bangs to cling to his face. The sweat stung last night's scratches on his cheek, but he ignored the call to itch. Letting it be a reminder of what his priorities were.

He saw old Mr. Crowder shuffling down the driveway toward him. He was paler than usual and saying something inaudible over _You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet_ in Jared's earbuds. Jared shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. C! Can't stop today!" Jared ran past the old man, feeling his fingers try to grab his arm as he passed. Jared turned and jogged backwards a little, gave the old man a friendly smile. "Got plenty to do. Sorting my life out this afternoon! Say ‘hello to Mrs. C!" Jared shouted louder than he probably realized because of the music volume.

Then he turned back around and continued down the street, leaving Mr. Crowder shuffling after him.

He slowed just a little when he approached Bitsy's house. The gate to the yard was open again. However, there was no sign of Bitsy. Eyes darting every which way, Jared raced pass the house and did not slow down until he was several houses away. He raised his arms in triumph and made crowd-cheering sounds for his skill at escaping the crazy Cockapoo.

Jared crossed the street before he reached the Wilshire Singles Community Apartment complex. He just could not face the single people who would look at him like pod people and know he was now one of them. He still held on to hope that Jensen would take him back, give him another chance. This time he would do everything different.

When he reached the Pickerby's house, he was surprised to see Mrs. Pickerby racing out of the house in her pink bathrobe, and Mr. Pickerby following her for a change. She ran straight to their mid-class sedan and started trying keys, while shouting things over her shoulder at him. He just kept ambling toward her with a stoic expression. Huh.

Perhaps the Pickerby's were like Jared and Jensen. They had been in a rut too, doing the same thing every day, having the same discussion, preparing the same travel mug, and so on. Then Mr. Pickerby just...snapped. All he wanted was for her to wear a different bathrobe or perhaps make dinner reservations, and she forgot. Now Mr. Pickerby just wanted an acknowledgment that he was more important than anything else in the world, more than any best friend, or mother, or pink bathrobe.

Jared sighed and frowned.

He came around Mr. Don't-Touch-My-Sports-Car's hedge and was unable to contain his grin. Right through the front window of that brand new yellow Jaguar was a hole about the size of a baseball and stretching around it was a spider web of cracks. "Awesome," he whispered to himself. "Couldn't happen to a nicer person."

The sight put a little perk back into his step.

When he reached the Shop-n-Go, Jared noticed the absence of Aldis immediately. There was someone milling around in the back aisle but whoever it was, he was too short to be Aldis. The second thing he noticed was the lack of coffee percolating. A whine involuntarily escaped from his throat.

"Aldis?" Jared looked around again. He even tried jumping up and down a couple of times so he could have an even higher perspective than 6'4". "Aldis?!"

With a frustrated sigh, Jared headed to the refrigerated section. Forced to pass the candy, he paused to grab a family size bag of Twizzlers. He nearly slipped in something red and sticky on the floor in the aisle as he absently studied the Twizzler bag. Without looking up, he opened the refrigerator with the sodas and grabbed one. Glancing at it, he returned it and grabbed another one. "What's the point of caffeine-free Diet Mountain Dew?" he mumbled to no one in particular.

Walking over to the counter, Jared called for Aldis a couple more times while digging out his money. He noticed there were no papers on display, which was extremely odd for a Sunday. "Aldis? Where are the Sunday papers?" Getting no answers, he finally put some money down on the counter near the register. "You owe me some change!" he called with a shrug and headed home.

  

* * *

  Once inside the house, Jared used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face, pushing his sweat-wet hair out of his eyes. Making a happy sound, he plopped heavily into the recliner, dropped the Twizzlers on the coffee table, and popped open the Mountain Dew. He grabbed the remote control, turned up the volume and began flipping channels while he sipped his cold caffeine, allowing his brain to go into tune-up mode.

" _... no official comment but religious groups are calling it Judgment Day. There's..._ "

 _[click]_

" _... panic on the streets of New York City..._ "

 _[click]_

" _... number of reports of..._ "

 _[click]_

" _... serious attacks on..._ "

 _[click]_

" _... people who are being..._ "

 _[click]_

" _... eaten alive. Witness reports are sketchy. One unifying detail seems to be that the attackers appear to be..._ "

 _[click]_

" _... the sensational chart-topping..._ "

 _  
[click]   
_

" _... or ideological connection between those committing the atrocities..._ "

"Dude, there's a chick in the garden," Chad said, startling Jared, who suddenly realized Chad was no longer passed out on the futon where he had been when Jared left for his run. Instead, holding a ham sandwich and what looked suspiciously like a bottle of Misha's IBC root beer, Chad stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

" _... emergency services..._ "

"What?" Jared managed to spit out.

Chad pointed to the window. "In the backyard, in our garden. There's a chick. You know -- boobs and a vagina." Chad grotesquely mimed grasping his own giant boobs.

" _... the armed forces will be called in to provide backup and assistance. Scientists are still trying to establish the nature of the phenomenon and are unsure as to the..._ "

Jared grimaced and attempted to block out all thoughts of Chad with boobs. Climbing out of the recliner, he set the soda on the coffee table and joined Chad at the window. "What's she doing out there?"

Shrugging, Chad shook his head as he chewed his sandwich.

They went outside to get a better look at the trespasser. Hunched over with her back to them, for some inexplicable reason she appeared to be lingering in the middle of Misha's vegetable garden. So far, all they knew was she was blond, a little leggy, and wearing a uniform for the local grocery store.

"Excuse me," Chad called to her. "Um...Excuse me." When he received no response, he glanced at Jared with a shrug.

Jared made a hear-goes-nothing face. "Um-Hello?"

Since she still made no signs of moving, Chad picked up a rock and tossed it at her, causing Jared to wince.

The rock hit her in the head. Three seconds passed. She began to turn around, but the movement was so slow it was agonizing to watch.

"Yeah, uh- Hi," Jared waved. "What are you doing?" Jared asked semi-politely.

When she completely faced them with heavily lidded eyes and a blank expression – kind of like Paris Hilton without the glamor – Chad laughed, "Oh, my God! She's totally wasted."

Jared snickered. He glanced at her name tag. "Okay, um- Katie-"

"Katie?" Chad interrupted. He shook his head. "Uh-uh. No, her name's Ruby."

"Her name tag says Katie." Jared pointed to the plastic tag pinned on her chest.

"No, it's Ruby," Chad said with absolute certainty.

"What? Don't be stupid."

By this time, Katie – or Ruby – had begun shuffling toward them, arms raised a little. She appeared oblivious to their argument.

"I'm telling you, her name is Ruby. I've seen her at The Pussy Kats Club and she is definitely Ruby," he looked over at the girl with a knowing smirk.

"How do you even remember anything from that place? Your upstairs brain shorts out the second you go in," Jared argued.

Chad snickered. "I'm telling you, she has this wicked little devil costume-. " He had his hands up holding his invisible boobs again.

"Dude, no!" Jared put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. "I don't want to hear about it."

Laughing, Chad smacked one of Jared's hands away. "Okay, okay! But I think she likes you." He pointed at Katie who was headed right for Jared with outstretched arms. After she stumbled over some broken porch tile, she picked up speed.

"Shut up," Jared replied, shoving Chad.

"Look, she just wants a hug!"

Jared held his hands up to hold her back. "Now, look, Katie or Ruby or whoever, you're really not my type." He glanced at Chad. "Dude, do something!"

"Wait here." Chad disappeared into the house.

"Chad!" Jared backed away from Katie as if she had cooties.

"Two seconds!"

"Look, I'm really flattered and everything but-"

A guttural sound rumbled out of her throat. Katie launched herself at Jared. She might have been smaller than he was, but she had surprise and kinetics on her side. She knocked him backwards and landed on top of him, straddling his torso. She bent down, her mouth making biting motions toward his neck.

Jared griped her shoulders, holding her head away from him.

Chad suddenly appeared with a digital camera. "And, hold it right there," he grinned, snapping a picture or two. There was never going to be another chance to get incriminating photos of Jared with a girl.

"Just get her off me!" Jared struggled with her as she continued to try to bite him.

"Holy Crap!" Chad finally realized the seriousness of the problem. He put the camera down, so he could grab Katie's shoulders with two hands. Chad yanked her backward as Jared pushed.

As soon as she was off Jared, he scrambled to his feet. "Fuck!"

She crawled to her feet and came at Jared again.

"Now, seriously, Katie, I'm warning you. Get out of our yard, or I'll- I'll have to get physical. I mean it!" Jared warned. The threat sounded more serious in his head.

Chad had the camera in his hands again.

When Katie ignored his threat and attempted to grab him again, all the while making those frightening guttural sounds, Jared shoved her hard. She stumbled backwards. Her body was awkwardly rigid, back straight. The heavy, hollow bottom pipe-like piece of the dissembled patio table slid through Katie's torso, impaling her like a piece of raw meat on a skewer. Blood splashed upward like an oil gusher.

Staring at the bloody, gory body in their backyard, pale-faced Jared and Chad stood frozen in place. For once, Chad had no words. Jared had just murdered a drunk girl in their backyard. No one would believe it. Chad was the more likely suspect of the two; Jared was too afraid of girl cooties. Jared covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a gasp.

Then everything got so much worse.

Doing an impression of Linda Blair, Katie's knees and elbows bent beneath her, she began to push herself upward along the pole. Finally, with a sickening popping sound, she jerked up and stood awkwardly facing Jared and Chad. They had a clear view of a five-inch diameter hole through her sternum. Both of their mouths dropped open.

"I think we should go back inside." Jared sounded far calmer than he felt.

Chad raised the camera and snapped two more pictures before saying, "Yeah, okay."

Neither of them needed to be told twice. When they turned to go back inside, they nearly ran into a man just as tall as Jared but twice as wide. His face was smeared with blood around his mouth, and he was ambling toward them at a snail's pace. A high-pitched scream escaped Chad's throat at the shock of it all, but before Katie or the giant cannibal had taken two steps, Chad and Jared were back in the house.

 

* * *

 

Inside, wide eyed and in shock, Chad wrapped the worn crochet afghan Jared's mother made around his shoulders and rocked back and forth. "Jared, what's going on?" Chad sounded like a lost little boy.

Jared quickly grabbed the phone and dialed "911," only to hear a busy signal. He began hitting the "redial" button over and over. "Shit, it's busy."

"What about an ambulance?"

Those thumbs that had become masters of gaming system controllers continued to speed through the process of pressing the "end" and "redial" buttons. "It's busy, Chad."

"Fire engine?"

"It's the same number, Chad, and they're all busy!" Jared paused and frowned. Then continuing the automatic motions with the phone, he looked up at Chad. "Why do you need a fire engine?"

"Anything with flashing lights."

"Okay." Jared nodded, understanding the logic. "Are they still there?"

Chad approached the window with hesitation. He quickly yanked back the curtain to reveal Katie and the bloody cannibal snarling at him on the other side of the glass. He reflexively backed away, dropping the curtain and pulling the afghan in tighter. "Yeah. What do you think we should do?"

"Um..." Deciding it was a lost cause, Jared dropped the phone on the futon. "Let's sit down and think." He gave Chad a questioning glance.

Chad considered it, shrugged, then said, "Yeah, okay."

Exhaling heavily, they both sat on the futon. Jared grabbed his Mountain Dew and Chad grabbed Misha's IBC root beer. They took a coordinated gulp. Jared grabbed the remote to the television and turned the volume higher.

" _...There are reports of chaos on the interstates as thousands of people attempt to flee the cities. All of the major airports have been shutdown..._ "

"Huh," they said at the same time.

" _...FEMA and the Department of Homeland Security are urging people to stay in their homes and await further instruction. Ensure all residences are secure with all doors and windows firmly locked and barricaded. Police-_ "

Just as it occurred to Jared to check the front door that Misha always complained was open, Jared looked up toward the front hallway and heard Chad make that same high-pitched sound as in the backyard. Only Jared realized a moment later that the sound had not come from Chad. It came from him. "Oh, my God!"

A one-armed, groaning man in a light blue tuxedo covered in blood from his mouth to his shiny blue cummerbund stood in their living room. For a split second, the thought that the orange boutonniere looked really wrong with the tux flashed through Jared's mind, before he reminded himself about the one arm and the blood.

"Get him!" Chad exclaimed, throwing the afghan off as he jumped to his feet. Jared jumped to his feet too, putting distance between himself and the badly dressed, bloody guy. Screaming encouraging things at each other like "Oh, God!" and "Hit it!" they threw everything they could get their hands on at the intruder, from pizza boxes to empty coffee cups to pillows.

Finally, Chad grabbed the glass ashtray and with a "Cowabunga!" yell, smashed it into the man's head. The intruder collapsed and, unlike Katie in the garden, did not get back to his feet. So Chad considered himself a better monster-killer than Jared. Triumphant, he pumped an arm in the air.

Meanwhile, Jared had a major mental breakdown in the corner.

Then the adrenaline started to drain from both of them as Chad stood panting over the body and Jared stood wide-eyed, staring at the dead thing on the floor, with his hands over his mouth.

" _...More reports just in confirm that in all cases the attackers seem slow and shambolic..._ "

"I-I'm just gonna...just the front door." Jared edged around the room and hurried to close and lock the front door. He leaned against it, hand on his chest, heart thumping wildly.

" _...We're expecting information from Homeland Security regarding the best way to neutralize the attackers. In the meantime, contact with these assailants is highly inadvisable..._ "

Jared walked back to Chad.

"Dude! Did you see his head splatter?" Chad blinked at the body, unable to look away. "That was awesome!"

The remark caused Jared to grimace at Chad, but brought him out of his shock.

" _...If you are confronted and have the opportunity to escape it is suggested you do so quickly..._ "

Ominously, the window Chad had previously spied Katie and the cannibal through began to rattle behind the curtain. Both Chad and Jared turned to look.

With an excited gleam in his blue eyes, Chad grinned, "We should get out there."

"NoNoNo. We should stay inside," Jared replied.

"Come on, we can take them," Chad insisted, practically bouncing.

"No, the man said to stay indoors." Jared pointed to the television.

"Fuck the man!"

"Look, as long as we're in here, and they're out there, we're safe!" Jared argued.

As if the crazy people outside were on the same side as the crazy person inside, the glass in the window shattered. The curtain billowed into the room and the shapes of arms poking behind it were clearly visible. In addition, there was the added bonus of snarls and groaning spilling into the room.

" _...the attackers can be stopped by removing the head or destroying the brain. I'll repeat that, by removing the head or destroying the brain..._ "

Chad and Jared stared at the television thoughtfully before taking off on a scavenger hunt through the house. Finally armed with a laundry basket full of items they considered brain-destruction-worthy, they met up in the backyard.

The two whatever-they-were's were still trying to get into the house through the window. So Chad whistled using two fingers in his mouth to get their attention. When they turned and began ambling toward Jared and Chad, he told Jared, "Aim for the head."

Jared nodded, reached down into the laundry basket, and pulled out a ceramic coffee mug. Chad tossed an electric knife sharpener at the cannibal. Both items just bounced off their targets. They went through a meat tenderizer, various other kitchen utensils, the toaster, the answering machine, dishes, and even one of Chad's bowling trophies. Jared and Chad played baseball in high school and were still pretty good athletes. The items just were not making the final cut.

"Now what?" Chad asked desperately when he realized Jared threw the laundry basket.

"Get more stuff?" Jared suggested out of breath.

Chad looked around the yard. Noticing a rickety shed at the back of Misha's garden, Chad asked the obvious, "What's in the shed?"

Jared shrugged. "I don't know. It's locked."

"Why's it locked?"

Jared shrugged again. "It's always been locked." The lock on the shed was there when they first rented the place, and neither he nor Misha had cared back then. In the following years, they had just never got around to bothering to care.

Chad looked down and noticed a CD, the CD Misha had thrown out the window the night before.

"No! Wait-" Jared reflexively started to say as Chad threw it towards their intruders. The CD spun in the air like a boomerang, curving to the left and lodging itself into the right side of the cannibal's head, just above the eye.

Chad and Jared gasped and stared at each other for a moment excitedly before racing off to grab the CD organizers. They returned to the same spot, sliding into place, and unzipped the cases. Jared quickly began flipping through the selection.

Katie and the cannibal continued to shuffle toward them.

"Some of these are collectors' items-" Jared explained.

Chad pulled one out of a slot at random and threw it.

"WaitWaitWait! What was that?" Jared exclaimed worriedly. He grimaced as it bounced off the wall and shattered.

" _Cracked Rear View_. Hootie and the Blowfish." Chad scoffs.

Jared huffed. Flipping through the CD Organizer, he was unable to find anything not worth keeping.

Chad rolled his eyes and began calling out possibilities. " _Jagged Little Pill_?"

"No." Jared shook his head. He might need that later. The 1996 album of the year's morose sound was excellent for break-up moping.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. _Smells Like Teen Spirit_?"

"Definitely not."

" _Spice_?" Chad sounded incredulous and his tone revealed how little patience he had left.

"Who bought _that_?" His voice slightly higher than normal, he failed to sound convincingly innocent, and Jared's cheeks grew pink as he ducked his head. "Um- throw it."

Chad put his whole body into the throw, only for it to spin wildly out of control and hit a wall nowhere near its targets. Both of them winced. Chad looked at the next option. " _The Bodyguard Soundtrack_? Really?  Why do you even have that?"

Ignoring the question, Jared cleared his throat. "Throw it."

 _The Bodyguard Soundtrack_ bounced off the side of Katie's skull with a sickening thud; her whole head snapped from side to side with the motion. Chad and Jared grimaced together at the sickening sound and exclaimed "Oooh!"

When that still did not slow the ambling progress, Chad continued, "'Er...Robie Zombie. _Astro Creep_?"

"I like it," Jared defended.

"Ah-ha! Cher!" Chad smiled holding up the CD triumphantly.

Frozen, Jared looked up at Chad from beneath his long bangs. Quietly he said, "That's...Jensen's."

"But he _dumped_ you," Chad replied venomously. Before Jared could stop him, Chad threw it, but it shattered uselessly in the middle of the cannibal's round chest.

Yet, the two trespassers shuffled toward Jared and Chad.

Jared's mind finally hit panic mode. "That's it. I'm going to the shed." Jared abandoned the CD organizers.

"I thought you said it was locked," Chad replied, scrambling after him.

Jared just made a non-committal noise. He was tired of wasting time, of not getting anywhere, of not moving forward. He was ready for some action, for something different. He needed something more.

When he reached the shed, Jared pulled the handles, feeling the feeble strength of the rusty chain and the lock. He shook the door on the hinges a little. Finally, Jared took a few steps back and rushed the shed, pushing into the rickety doors with one broad shoulder. That giant frame of his was good for something. The doors did not stand up to his weight, and he crashed landed into a damp, cluttered room, full of all sorts of long-forgotten hazards.

Within thirty seconds, Chad was armed with a flat shovel and Jared had a Louisville Slugger. The baseball bat felt good in Jared's big hands, just like high school. He curled his fingers around the wood, stretching each one before letting it settle comfortably into place.

"Which one do you want?" Chad asked.

"What?" Not for the first time, Jared tilted his head, trying to puzzle out what was going on beneath that blond hair.

"The girl or the guy?" Chad asked.

"Umm..." Jared tilted his head the other way as he considered. "The girl." He _owed_ her. They had history.

They switched places so Chad was facing the cannibal and Jared was facing Katie – two on two, lined up in the yard. Then on three, they rushed the crazy intruders.

Chad chose to hit cannibal man right on top of his head with the flat of the shovel, but it still took an uncountable number of blows to let out all of the tension that had built since the morning began. It was messier than Chad expected, with all the blood oozing, squishing, and splashing, and the man gurgling and gasping in his dying throes.

Jared started in proper batting form just as his high school coach had taught him but after the first hit, Katie -- or Ruby, according to Chad -- fell to the ground, making it impossible for him to swing again at a ninety-degree angle. She was still flailing, so he had to go with a bashing method similar to Chad's.

"Dead. Things. Should. Stay. Dead." A sick thud of the bat emphasized each word. Panting when he was done, Jared wiped his blood spotted hands on his _Armageddon_ t-shirt. He turned to Chad and said, "That felt oddly cathartic."


	9. Act IX: The Game Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killing dead things was perfectly reasonable, but killing the living was just wrong.

**ACT IX: "The Game Plan"**

 

Still in shock, gripping his now lukewarm Mountain Dew in both hands, Jared sat expressionless on the sofa, with his knees pulled together, elbows pulled close. He had never considered himself a killer, a murderer, but he had just spent the morning killing a woman in a particularly gruesome manner. Twice.

Next to him, Chad sprawled on the futon with a spoon and an open pint of Misha's Chunky Monkey ice cream. Other than the scrape of the metal spoon sliding against Chad's teeth, only the newscaster's melodramatic, absurd words filled the silence in the room.

" _...in all cases, people receiving bites have experienced headaches nausea and developed symptoms. If you know someone who has been bitten, it is absolutely essential that you isolate them immediately..._ "

Having known each other most of their lives and, thus, sharing similar thought patterns, Jared and Chad reached the same conclusion at the same time. _Misha._ They looked at each other and then at the ceiling as if they had x-ray vision and could see their mugger-bitten, bitter roommate on the second floor somewhere.

" _...The public are being strongly advised not to approach anyone..._ "

Nearly tripping over each other, they rushed to the bottom of the hallway stairs. Slowly licking Chunky Monkey off the spoon, Chad stood next to Jared as they stared upward.

"Misha?" Jared took one step up and raised his voice a little. "Misha?

"Why don't we just go up? " Chad began to climb the steps past Jared.

Jared blocked Chad with one long arm. "No! Don't go up there!" Jared suspiciously eyed the top of the stairs.

"Why not?" Chad blustered.

"Because A, he might be one of them, and two, he might still be pissed." When Chad backed down, signaling his agreement at the last possibility, Jared tried calling for their roommate again, "Misha? " Jared waited a few more seconds and then let out a breath he did not know he was holding. "Maybe he went into work."

"Well, he didn't drive. His keys are still here." Chad pointed to the key hooks Jensen hung by the door last year after Jared kept misplacing his keys.

Jared worried his bottom lip. "Maybe he got a ride. He said he wasn't feeling well. Mish? " Jared called once more with a tiny amount of hope.

"Hey, dick! " Chad bellowed.

When even Chad's poking elicited no response, they agreed in sync, "He's not here."

Walking back to the living room, Chad asked, "You got any smokes? I'm out."

"No, I quit," Jared replied as he followed.

"Since when?" Chad snorted in disbelief.

"Since..." The events of the night before shifted into focus in Jared's brain. "Oh, my God! Jen!" Jared raced to the phone and dialed, but it was busy.

Chad wandered back into the kitchen to throw away the empty ice cream container and toss the spoon into the sink.

Jared began the same redial game he had played earlier with emergency services. "Come on, Jen!" Somewhere between hanging up and pressing redial, the phone rang. Panicked, he answered, "Jen!"

" _Jared!_ " Sherri Padalecki-Sheppard replied from the other end of the phone line.

"Mom!" surprised, Jared stammered. "M-momma, I-I was gonna call you. Are-are-are you okay?" Well, he would have called her as soon as he thought about it.

"Is she okay?" With genuine concern, Chad asked over his shoulder.

" _Yes,_ " she reassured him.

"Really? Are you sure?" Jared pushed. She was in the habit of sheltering him from anything troubling and he knew it.

" _Well...Some strange men tried to get into the house earlier,_ " she replied with a hint of her Texas drawl.

"What? Are they still there?" Jared panicked.

Chad kept miming questions in response to his questions since Chad could only hear half of the conversation.

" _I don't know. We shut the curtains._ "

"Did you call the police?"

" _I thought about it, but Mark said not to bother._ "

"But you're okay? They didn't hurt you, did they?" Jared prodded with worry.

"Is she okay? Is she okay?" Chad repeated louder.

" _I'm fine, Puppy. I'm fine._ " She laughed nervously as if he was being overly dramatic about the whole thing.

"Momma? What aren't you telling me?" Jared pushed harder. The two most important people in his life were his mother and Jensen, and he just did not know if he could survive without them.

" _Well, they were a bit...bitey._ "

Jared sucked in a huge breath. "Momma, this is important. Have you been bitten?"

" _No... but Mark has._ "

"Oh." Jared released the breath he was holding. "Okay."

"Has she been bitten?" Chad demanded, gripping Jared's arm.

Jared shook his head at Chad, put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered, "No, but Mark has."

"Oh. Okay." Letting go of Jared, Chad nodded then took a gulp of Jared's Mountain Dew.

Jared spoke directly into the phone. "Momma, how is he? Does he seem...different?"

" _Oh, he's fine,_ " She dismissed. " _Just a little under the weather._ "

"Okay," Jared said thoughtfully. Jared could almost see her shrug off his worry.

"What?" Chad asked.

Again, Jared put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Chad, "We might have to kill my step-father."

"Oh, okay." Chad shrugged and finished off the Mountain Dew.

"Momma, you're not safe there. I'm coming to get you," Jared informed her.

  


* * *

 

Wearing a serious expression, Chad sat in the recliner spinning the shovel in his hands like he was "The Shoveler" from _Mystery Men_. "So? What's the plan?"

Jared stopped pacing the length of the living room and stared at Chad, wondering how he ended up as the brains of the outfit and realizing that, if civilization were depending on their brains for salvation, civilization was totally fucked. He closed his eyes and tried to come up with a plan that did not make his head hurt. "Um. Okay....We'll take Misha's SUV...drive over to Mom's...go in and take care of Mark...grab Mom, then go over to Jen's place, and we'll hole up, until this whole thing blows over."

"Why are we going to Jensen's?" Incredulous, Chad demanded.

"Because," Jared answered simply. He really had no desire to go into this with Chad.

When that was all the answer he got, Chad replied, "But he dumped you, dumbass!"

"I still have to know if he's all right." Not meeting Chad's eyes, Jared fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt. Not knowing about Jensen's state of health, whether he was alive, or dead or undead, was just as painful as Jensen breaking up with him. One was a stabbing pain in his chest, and the other was a distracting agony in his brain.

"Why?" Chad scoffed.

"Because I love him, okay?" Jared bit out angrily. Just because Jensen had dumped him less than twenty-four hours ago did not mean that Jared loved him any less

"All right, pussy," Chad mocked. "But I'm not staying there."

"And why not?" Jared sighed with exasperation, prepared for some completely lunatic reason.

"If we're going to hole up somewhere, I want to be somewhere familiar. I wanna know where the exits are, and I wanna be comfortable." Chad counted each thing off on his fingers. "And Jensen and his roommates are going to have all kinds of rules about coasters, and feet on the furniture, and putting the seat down."

Jared gaped at Chad's well thought out answer. _Touché._ "Okay..." Jared bit his bottom lip as he rethought his plan. "Okay, how ‘bout this? We'll take Misha's SUV, go to Mom's, deal with Mark, grab Mom, go to Jen's, grab Jen...then bring Mom and Jen back here, and wait ‘til all this blows over."

"Perfect," Chad agreed as he got to his feet.

Looking around, Jared shook his head. "No, wait...." He sighed. "We can't bring them here."

"What? Why not?" Chad looked around. "What's wrong with here?"

"It's not exactly safe, is it?" Jared gestured to the dead body in the living room and the broken window.

Chad huffed. "I guess..."

Looking thoughtful, Jared put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Where's safe and familiar?"

"And comfortable..." Looking just as thoughtful, Chad added.

They both stood, and thought, and once again, came to the same conclusion at the same time. "The Winchester!" they said together, grinning.

Jared nodded. "Okay, We'll take the SUV, go to Mom's, kill Mark, then grab Jen, go to The Winchester and have a cold beer while we wait for all of this to blow over."

Chad nodded and spun the shovel in his hands.

" _...To recap, it is vital that you stay in your homes. Make no attempt to reach loved ones and avoid all physical contact with the assailants..._ "

"Do you believe everything you hear on T.V., man?" Chad smirked, looking from the television to Jared.

   


* * *

 

 

A few minutes later, they were back in the hallway, with Jared peeking through one of the narrow, slightly opaque windows to the left of the front door. He tried to pick out the blur of Misha's SUV from all of the other blurs in the direction of the street. "Yeah, I think I see it. It's parked right out front," Jared said, squinting.

Leaning on the banister, Chad asked, "Any zombies out there?"

"Don't say that," Jared replied, straightening to his full height. He turned to look at Chad.

"What?" Chad puzzled.

" _That._ "

"What?" Chad continued to look confused.

"That z-word."

"Why not?"

"Because...it's absurd...Besides, none of the good movies call them that, you know," Jared stated.

Chad stared at him dumb-founded. "What?"

"They refer to them as ‘infected' or ‘undead' or ‘creatures'...sometimes ‘ghouls' or ‘walking dead', but only the knock-offs call them ‘zombies'." Jared used the universal finger quotes when he said the word "zombies."

Chad continued to stare at Jared with his mouth open.

Jared blinked at Chad. Then slowly his brain caught up with his mouth. "Right...Um." He swallowed and turned to squint out of the window again. "I don't see any...zom- um- whatever they are."

"Good. Maybe it's not as bad as the T.V. made it out to be." Chad hefted the shovel onto his shoulder and prepared to go outside.

"Wait!" Jared held up a hand signaling his friend to stop. "I see them!"

"How many?"

Jared shrugged and shook his head. They were moving indefinable blurs through the opaque window. He was unable to determine their sizes or if they came as single threats or in multiple flesh-eating teams. "No idea."

Chad shrugged. "Well, we have to go out there anyway." He just braced his shoulders and griped the shovel with both hands. "Let's just do it."

"Okay." Jared grabbed his bat and nodded at him.

"Now?" Chad verified.

"Yeah," Jared agreed.

"Yeah?" Chad responded louder.

"Yeah!" Jared agreed louder.

"Yeah!" Chad growled, making his bad m-fucker face.

"Yeah!" Jared yelled, making his goofy angry even-a-caveman-can-do-it face.

"Yeah!" Arms wide, Chad chest-butted Jared.

"Yeah!" Jared chest-butted Chad in return.

"All right! Let's go!" Chad yelled, really riled up now, and turned toward the door.

Jared looked down at what he was wearing and decided that sweatpants and his sweaty, blood-spattered _Armageddon_ t-shirt was not the best fashion statement for seeing his mother, or the man he wanted to win back. "Wait. Give me a minute. I need to change into something else."

Chad blinked, relaxed his tense shoulders, and raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck?"

Jared was already half way up the stairs. "I just need to put some jeans on and a fresh shirt...for my mom," he called back to Chad.

"No one's going to care!" Chad figured they had the perfect excuses today. Today was the ultimate "Get out of Jail Free" card day for pretty much anything. That line of thought led him to one particularly mischievous thought. "Ooooh...can...I drive?"

"What?" Jared asked from his room.

"I've always wanted to drive Misha's car. This might be might be my only chance," Chad replied as he palmed the keys from the hook.

"Yeah, okay." Jared pulled the t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. The sweatpants joined it a few seconds later. He realized then that he really should have taken a shower after his run, but there was no time now. He crinkled his nose and looked around his messy room. Finally, he spotted the trial-sized can of Axe body spray that came in the mail last week. He had managed to snag it because he had been the one to actually check the mail for once. Proud of himself for his ingenuity, Jared attempted to hit all of the hot spots with the Axe without going overboard. Then he quickly dressed in a pair of old jeans and a blue collared knit t-shirt he knew Jensen thought looked good on him.

He just wanted to make a quick trip to the bathroom before they started the big road trip so he crossed the hall and took care of that little piece of business. As he washed his hands at the sink, he glanced into the mirror to check out his hair. His heart skipped a beat. Maybe it skipped a couple of beats. He also discovered he was holding his breath. A silhouette of a man appeared through the white opaque shower curtains reflected in the mirror, and it was definitely not Alfred Hitchcock.

Jared could not stop himself. His brain said not to do it, but his body was moving of its own volition. Slowly he approached the bathtub/shower combo. His hand shakily reached out, fingers wrapping around the edge of the curtain. He yanked back the curtain.

Jared screamed like a giant little girl.

Stoically, Misha stood in his birthday suit in the bathtub without any water in the tub or from the shower nozzle raining down on him. He simply stood there, staring at Jared, until Jared screamed. Then he reached out to grab Jared. Misha groaned much the way Katie had.

Jared backed away almost tripping over his big feet. "Oh, God! Sorry, Misha. Listen, we-we're gonna borrow your car, okay?" He reached the hall just as Misha stepped out of the bathtub. "Um- We'll b-bring it back." Jared pulled the bathroom door closed behind him. "And if-if you're feeling better later, we're –uh-- going to The Winchester, so you're more than welcome to – um – j-join us." _PleasePleasePlease, don't join us!_

Panting, Jared ran down the hall and stairs. He grabbed his baseball bat from Chad in the foyer and yanked open the front door. "Let's go," he told Chad, looking back over his shoulder to verify Misha was not right behind him.

"Dude, Misha'd be so pissed off if he knew I was driving his car," Chad chirped as he followed Jared into the front yard. Oblivious, he pulled the door shut behind him.

Jared shook his head, heart racing. "Somehow I don't think so. Come on!" He pulled on Chad's arm to hurry him along.

As soon as they were outside, the walking dead in the street within eyesight began groaning and ambling toward the twosome. Jared nearly tripped over a soccer ball and noticed the bloody undead junior high girl who had been tormenting him at the Shop-n-Go. He felt slightly guilty about telling her how dead she was now. She had company though. She had plenty of infected company. Mr. Pickerby and Mr. Crowder had come a long way to pay Jared a visit.

Chad pressed a button on the keychain but it set the alarm off, alerting any creatures in the area that did not already know they were there of their presence. His second attempt at pressing buttons on the keychain automatically unlocked the car's front doors. The click was audible. They rushed to the red SUV. Chad shoved the junior high girl away as he pulled open the door. "Get lost!"

Jared bashed in the head of one of his lesser friendly neighbors before he could get the door open. Chad was already starting the vehicle when he climbed in and shut the door. "Drive!"

Jared struggled with his seatbelt while Chad struggled with the unfamiliar controls. The windshield wipers came on briefly before he got the hang of things. Jared witnessed a naked Misha open the front door as they pulled away. That was just one of a hundred things he wanted to forget seeing from today.

The radio came on as soon as the engine started. " _The Catholic Church has joined other extremist religious groups in proclaiming this a ‘sign of a coming apocalypse'. The White House is refusing to be drawn into a religious debate. The bodies of the recently deceased are returning to life and attacking the living._ "

As they drove at high speed through Washington D.C. neighborhoods, Jared saw families running screaming from their homes, a body bag in an open ambulance wriggling, corpses crawling from graves in a cemetery in broad daylight, a homeless man walking with an empty leash, and so many more horrible things he wanted to block out of his mind. It was hard to imagine that just yesterday morning the worst image he wanted to block out was Mr. Crowder bent over picking up his newspaper.

Chad grabbed one of Misha's CDs. "Let's put something else on, man." He leaned over to fiddle with the CD player in the car stereo, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and no eyes on the road. _Hell's Bells_ blared out of the car's speakers.

The SUV swerved uncontrolled. Jared braced himself against the dashboard. "What the hell are you doing? Chad, look out!"

A body bounced onto the hood of the SUV, smashed into the windshield, and over to the right of the SUV into the road with more than a few sickening bone-cracking thuds. They both cried out as the car spun ninety degrees and Chad slammed on the brakes. Chad turned off the stereo and they both looked back at the body in the road.

"I think we might've hit something," Chad said quietly.

"More like someone," Jared replied, unnerved. "Back up."

"What?" Wide-eyed, Chad looked at Jared and shook his head.

"Back. Up," Jared shoved Chad's shoulder.

Chad sighed and backed up the SUV so they were alongside the body.

Jared rolled down the window. "Hey, man, are you all right?" He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned out the window a little.

The bent, broken body remained silent and still. One leg was bent at the knee at a forty-five degree angle and an arm was dislocated in the wrong direction. Blood was everywhere.

"Come on, man. Let's just go," Chad pleaded, looking over Jared's shoulder at the body.

Jared shook his head. He needed to know if they had hit a live person or not. It was important to him, to his conscious. "Um- Hello? You okay?"

"He's dead either way," Chad pleaded.

"That's not the point, Chad!" Jared growled. Jared was bothered that Chad failed to understand the importance. Killing dead things was perfectly reasonable, but killing the living was just wrong.

A guttural groaning grated from the body in the road. The one good arm pushed the torso up so the head could blankly stare at Jared. Too much blood dripped from his mouth – fresh blood moistened long dried blood smeared across his face.

"Oh, thank God," Jared muttered in relief. Jared rolled up the window. "Let's go."

Chad did not need to be told a second time. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal. They traveled through suburbia at interstate speeds without running into any traffic. Chad barely slowed down at intersections even when stop signs or traffic lights were involved. Even the crows could not get to the Sheppards' house from Jared's duplex as fast.


	10. Act X: The Pick-Up Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, part of being a man involved stubbornly forcing your mother and stepfather to abandon their perfectly good home during a worldwide infestation of the undead.

**ACT X: "The Pick-Up Artist"**

 

The Sheppards lived in a planned community where every lawn was perfectly mowed, every car was perfectly washed and waxed, and every house was perfectly maintained, and if, God forbid, a dandelion dared to show its sunny face on your perfectly Stepford property, you would receive a perfectly pretty fine from the co-op. The neighborhood seemed creepy to Jared under normal circumstances, but today it had the extra-special feeling of a Twilight Zone episode on acid.

Chad parked the SUV at the end of the stone driveway and eyed the silver Porsche sparkling in the sunlight near the front door. "You didn't tell me Sherri had a Porsche." His blue eyes caressed the four-door beauty as if she were a full-figured supermodel giving him a private nudie show. "I've always wanted to drive a Porsche."

"It's Mark's. He won't let anyone near it," Jared replied, glaring at the car as if it were a rival sibling. "I brought a juice box in it once and he tried to whip me with his belt."

"Fuck, she's gorgeous," Chad whispered, running his hand along the steering wheel as if fantasizing about sexually caressing the other car.

Jared jerked at the comment. Disturbed, he stared at his friend's glazed over eyes and cleared his throat. When Chad blinked at him, he said, "It seems pretty clear on the street. We should go in."

"Um...why don't I stay here?"

Already unbuckled and with his hand on the door handle, Jared froze. "Uh- What?"

"You know, keep watch...If there are any problems, I'll honk the horn." Chad mimed honking the horn three times.

Jared tilted his head and ran a hand through his hair. He eyed Chad suspiciously. Finally, he nodded, "Okay." He supposed that was a good plan. He unfolded himself from the front seat, slammed the door, and headed toward the house with the bat in his hand.

Chad rolled down the window and shouted at him, "Don't forget to kill Mark!"

Jared stumbled a step or two. "Uh- Right!"

Sherri opened the door less than three seconds after Jared pressed the doorbell. She looked the way she always did – perfect. Sherri Padalecki-Sheppard was the Donna Reid of the new Millennia; no matter what the situation, her brown curls were always beautifully in place, her make-up was always flawless, her attire was always clean and pressed, and she always wore a sunny smile.

"Hello, Puppy!" Sherri grinned and pulled Jared into a tight hug.

"Momma!" Jared returned her embrace with a desperate bear hug, a need to ensure himself that at least one of his favorite people was still alive.

He closed the door behind him once they had let go of each other, but before he could ask if she was okay, she started fussing about the scratches on his face. He shrugged her fingers away from his face. "I'm fine, Momma. I'm fine. They're nothing. Really. The important thing's if you're all right. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she smiled, smoothing her rose, cotton cardigan over its matching camisole, before she led him down the hall into the heart of the big house. "You know it really is good to see you, but you smell like that canned, boy perfume."

Jared winced at the mention of the smell, glad it was the body spray she smelled and not sweat, blood and brains.

"Why don't you run upstairs and take a quick shower? Run a comb through that hair of yours before dinner?" she smiled and brushed his bangs out of his face with manicured fingers as she walked with him down the hallway.

"Um...that's o.k., maybe later. Where's Mark?" Jared asked, hunching over a little, so he could be closer to her height.

"Your dad's in the den." She gestured in the direction of the television noise.

"He's not my ‘dad'," Jared replied on automatic.

"Oh, Jared, really?" Exasperated, Sherri retorted; yet the smile never left her face.

Jared rolled his eyes. "Listen, Momma, Chad's outside. We're gonna take you somewhere safe."

"I was just going to call a doctor," Sherri replied, concern for her husband breaking through the mask a little. They paused in the hallway, hovering between the kitchen and the den.

"A doctor? Momma, I don't think you're gonna get anyone to come." Jared put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "911 has been busy all morning."

"Well, I don't think Mark's gonna want to leave the house, dear," she said.

"Look, Mark isn't..." Frustrated, he dropped his chin to his chest and exhaled. When he looked up at her, his face was blank. "Why don't you make us some sweet tea and I'll deal with Mark, okay?"

Sherri grinned widely at him, perking up at the mention of sweet tea. "Okay."

"Okay."

As she stepped into the kitchen, she asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Not really." Jared shook his head. He looked into the dimly lit den.

Mark's plasma television was even larger than theirs was, of course. The television was the only thing giving off light in the room in fact. Jared could see the back of Mark's head silhouetted above his usual place on the Lazy Boy love seat. Everyone thought it was "so adorable" that Sherri and Mark watched television every night curled up in their love seat rather than from separate chairs like most couples, but Jared had grown up with it, and the cuteness factor, combined with Mark just made him want to gag.

"I'll make some sandwiches," Sherri ignored his answer, because never once in twenty-nine years had he ever replied in the negative.

"Okay." Jared walked slowly into the den with his bat held in both hands.

"No fighting, you two!" Sherri called from the kitchen, causing Jared to wince.

Words from the television filled the background. " _...you may ask where is our God? But throughout the land, men and women of integrity rise up to confront the unseen enemy. They will not be cowards, in the face of danger..._ "

Jared prepared to swing when he got close enough. "I'm so sorry, Mark," he whispered.

"Why?" Mark, who up until then had remained quiet as a mouse and still as the dead, asked. "What have you done now?"

Jared squealed and let the bat fall out of the grip of one hand so he held it awkwardly limp in the other. "N-nothing."

"What have you got there? Flowers, I hope."

"N-No...it's a baseball bat," Jared replied, twirling it and attempting to look casual.

"Is that for the church rummage sale, Jared?" Sherri asked as she brought in three tall glasses of iced sweet tea and set them down on the coffee table.

"No. Um- Yes."

"There's a box of your old toys upstairs. I was going to take them to the rummage sale," she replied.

"I took them to Goodwill, Sherri," Mark stated. He had yet to move. His right arm was tied in bandages and hung in a sling.

"What?!" Jared cried angrily at Mark. "Those were mine."

"If they were important, you would have done something with them sooner," Mark smirked. "Let that be a lesson, Jared. You can't just assume you're going to have what you want when you want it. The things you really want always take effort to get, work to keep, and that's what makes them worth wanting."

Sherri patted Mark on the shoulder with a knowing smile.

Jared gaped at him before rolling his eyes.

Mark shook his head at Jared's predictable response.

"Jared wants to take us somewhere," Sherri told Mark.

"Don't be absurd," Mark replied.

"Well, you can stay here," Jared stated. "And wait for a doctor."

"You said no one would come," Sherri accused in a panicked voice.

"Sherri, you didn't actually call a doctor, did you?" Mark scolded.

"No...not yet," she replied, looking at him with concern. "But I think we should to be on the safe side."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Really. Besides, we both had all our shots and a tetanus when we went on that cruise last year, remember?" He squeezed her hand with his one good hand. "We sent Jared that postcard from Hell, Jamaica."

"Yes, but Mark..." Sherri caressed his cheek. Her usually sunny face was all worry and frown.

"It's all overblown nonsense." He gestured at the television with his good hand. "A lot of mob hysteria and crackheads running wild acting like it's the apocalypse or something. Please!" Mark rolled his eyes.

"But I should get Momma away," Jared pushed, hoping Mark would agree with him on just this one thing.

"I am not going anywhere without Mark," she stated with stubborn finality.

"Momma," Jared pleaded.

"I better fix those sandwiches," she announced as she abruptly stood. She walked quickly into the kitchen with Jared on her heels.

"Momma, how much to you love Mark?"

"Mustard?"

"Um- Sure." Jared paused as he took in the sandwich assembly line his mother had stretched across the counter.

"Oh, will you cut me some bread, Puppy?" She handed him a knife.

Jared took the knife and absently pulled out whatever fresh loaf of bread his mother had in the breadbox. As he sliced, he repeated, "Momma, How much do you love Mark?"

"Do we have to go through all this again?"

"What if I told you that Mark's been..." Jared thought carefully about his words. "...unkind to me?"

"Well, you weren't always easy to live with," she laughed.

Jared stopped slicing and gave her a hurt look. When he realized the look went unnoticed, he added, "He beat me with a belt!"

"Well, you did call him a you-know-what," she retorted.

"He told you?" He handed her the slices of bread and she nodded. "Motherfucker," he swore under his breath.

"Jared!" Shocked, Sherri spun around and stared at him.

Jared slammed a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, Momma," he apologized quietly as he slowly dropped his hand.

After she returned to the sandwich making, with her back to him, he finally said, "What if I told you...he touched me inappropriately?"

Sherri stilled. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She opened them and turned to stare accusingly at her son.

"Okay, he didn't. I said ‘what if'." Jared shrank back. He ducked his head, hiding beneath his long bangs. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

Sherri nodded at him angrily as he apologized.

"But you don't understand-" Jared began.

"No, Jared, you don't understand," Sherri interrupted in a cold explosion. "Mark is my husband. We've been married for seventeen years. I know you two haven't always gotten along, but I would at least expect you to respect my feelings. You have to start acting more adult about these things."

"Yeah, Jared," Mark growled, leaning heavily on the doorjamb. He was sweating uncharacteristically profusely, and his breathing was labored. "There comes a time when...you just...have to be a man."

Startled, Jared looked from Mark to the large knife in his hand and back for a few seconds before deciding to take Mark's advice.

  

  


* * *

  


 

Apparently, part of being a man involved stubbornly forcing your mother and stepfather to abandon their perfectly good home during a worldwide infestation of the undead.

Jared let his baseball bat hang loosely at his side, banging against his long leg in an inconsistent rhythm as he petulantly led the way into the driveway. The sound of a car alarm filled the air immediately, but Jared was so immune to it now, he tuned it right out. Like a sentinel, Chad stood near the edge of the driveway with the shovel, smiling at them as they emerged.

Mark reached into his pocket for his car keys and headed toward the Porsche.

"Oh, hello, Chad!" Sherri exclaimed, rushing over to give him a hug.

"Hi, Sherri," he grinned and kissed her chastely on the cheek.

"My, how you've grown!" She patted him on the cheek before heading back to the Porsche.

"You have no idea," he replied suggestively. To Jared, he asked, "What happened? Why is _he_ coming?"

Jared ducked his head and sighed. "You weren't there. It was a lot harder than it sounded, man."

"Are we following you?" Mark asked.

"Actually, it's probably better if we all..." Jared suddenly realized Chad was _standing_ in the driveway, not sitting in Misha's SUV. "Where's the car?"

Chad looked guilty. "Ummmm...I kinda crashed it." He pointed in the direction of the car alarm.

Jared took a few steps down the driveway and saw the source. Misha's SUV had taken a header into a neighbor's mailbox. The co-op was really going to be pissed. "You were _parked_." He wanted to sound surprised but really how could he be?

Chad shrugged. "Yeah...I guess we'll have to take the Porsche."

Jared sighed heavily. "Mark-" he began, but as he turned to talk to his stepfather, he spied two of the walking dead approaching Mark from behind.

"What?" Mark replied, looking up from sorting through his key ring, at the same time Jared belatedly yelled, "Look out!"

A hooded undead teenager bit into Mark's neck, causing him to cry out in agony. His knees buckled under the shock of it, and the weight of the thing clinging to him. Jared raced across the driveway, jumped up and slid across the hood of the car, landed on the other side and in one motion swung his bat into the head of the undead teenager. Mark fell against the Porsche, blood gushing from his left shoulder and neck from where the creature had made him a chew toy.

"Give me the car keys," Jared held out his hand.

"You're not driving that car," Mark panted, hand gripping his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding.

Jared turned and knocked back the second assailant before spinning back to Mark. "Damnit! Give me the car keys!"

Mark reluctantly tossed Jared the car keys.

Jared immediately tossed the keys to Chad, who had raced to Sherri's side in time to save her from a third undead creature that had appeared out of nowhere. "Chad, get Momma in the car."

"Got it," Chad replied, sliding a key into the door and quickly ushering Sherri into the front seat.

Jared offered Mark a hand.

"Don't worry about me. Just help your mother!" Mark said nobly.

Jared manhandled Mark into the backseat and started to head for the driver's seat only to find Chad there. "Maybe I should drive," he told his friend.

"I've already adjusted the seat," Chad stated and closed the driver's side door.

Jared sighed and reluctantly slid into the backseat with Mark. "Just...be careful!"

As the Porsche sped through the streets, Sherri handed tissue after tissue from the glove box back to Mark help stop the bleeding. Chad popped Misha's AC/DC CD into the CD player and turned up the volume.

"Can you please turn that abominable noise down?" Mark shouted from the backseat.

The tires screeched on the pavement as they spun along curves, speeds even the Porsche never should have been doing.

"Are you all right, dear?" Sherri asked from the front seat. "Would you like another tissue?"

"I'd be fine if it weren't for that bloody racket!" Mark complained.

"It is a bit loud, Chad," Sherri said with a slightly chastising tone.

"I'm sorry, Sherri," Chad apologized politely and turned down the volume considerably.

"You know this is a twenty-mile-an-hour zone, right?" Jared asked, leaning forward.

"Yep," Chad chirped.

"Okay," Jared sighed and fell back against the seat.

Shortly, Chad slammed the brakes in front of Jensen's building. "And...we're here."

Jared braced himself for venturing into the fray again. "Okay, Momma, this won't take but a few minutes, all right?"

Sherri turned in her seat and flashed him a reassuring smile. "Sure, dear."

Jared pulled the door handle and pushed the door with his shoulder but the door remained shut. Sounding like an exasperated fifteen-year-old, he turned to Mark, "You still have the child locks on?"

"Safety first, Jared," the injured man said.

Clenching his jaw, Jared resisted the urge to strangle the man. Instead, he reached up and pushed open the sunroof. With his bat shoved under one arm, he pulled his giant frame up and out of the car, only to fall face forward to the ground with a thud.

Hauling himself to his feet using Chad's open window for leverage, Jared instructed, "Keep moving. If there's any problems..."

"I'll do the honk thing." Chad agreed.

Jared looked doubtful as Chad peeled away in the Porsche, but for now he had other concerns. There were approaching undead to avoid or defeat, and the terrible twosome upstairs to convince to let him into the building.

  

  


* * *

  


 

Sitting on the sofa, Mike applied the third coat of OPI's Pop My Cherry Red to his nails, while Tom attempted to talk him down from an acetone high. They had agreed to mute the television an hour ago, since the broadcasting was only causing anxiety, and Jensen refused to divulge where the last of the Godiva chocolates were hidden. So, Mike had moved on to makeovers, and Jensen had quickly disappeared into the sanctity of his bedroom.

The buzzer announcing someone was at the building entrance interrupted the couple's bickering. Surprised, they both froze. Mike blinked at Tom and gestured with one widespread hand. "Well, I can't get it!" he said, wide eyes gesturing at his nails. "They're still wet."

Dressed in blue jeans with a dark blue t-shirt stretched across his chest, Tom sighed and dutifully went to the intercom box. "Hello?" he asked somewhat timidly. What lunatic would be outside their building in the middle of the current chaos? No one replied. In fact, all he could hear was the distant sound of grunting and groaning. "Hello?"

Curious, Jensen appeared in the living room just as the trellis outside their window started shaking violently and the grunting grew louder.

Mike, who, thanks to his current make-over, was wearing a sequined red, white, and blue top with blue crop pants, rose from the sofa to stare at the window, but also to prepare to run and hide, if necessary. Tom moved to stand next to his boyfriend, warily watching the trembling trellis.

Startlingly, a bat thudded flat against the window above the trellis. Then a hand gripped the windowsill. Eventually, the top of a head full of shaggy brown hair appeared.

Every muscle in Jared's arms screamed with ache as they stretched to their limits and were pushed further than they had been in years. If he lived through any of this, he was really going to hurt later. Using every ounce of willpower and strength, Jared pulled himself up the final few inches, so he could see into Jensen's apartment. Panting and struggling to stay up, Jared saw the three of them simply standing there, staring at him. "Uh- guys? Can you let me in, please?"

No one inside the apartment moved. They just gaped at Jared.

"What are you doing?" Jensen asked, bewildered.

With his face pressed against the glass, Jared replied, "I came to rescue you."

Jensen rushed to the window and pushed it open. Jared dropped the bat inside and allowed himself to tumble forward as Jensen backed away to stand in front of his roommates.

Jared slammed the window and ran to stand in front of Jensen, resisting the urge to sweep Jensen into his arms and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. Instead, Jared just drank in the sight of Jensen, so thankful he was among the living – Jensen with his startling green eyes, and his sprinkling of freckles, both of which were damned distracting, Jensen with his beautiful face and kissable lips, his strong arms and muscular chest beneath that tight black t-shirt--

Jensen thought maybe Jared was waiting for him to say something. "Again, what are you doing?"

Jared blinked, realizing he had gone speechless in Jensen's presence again. Not for the first time either. "I'm here to take you somewhere safe."

"We are safe!" Tom insisted.

"You don't know that," Jared retorted. "Those creatures are forming an undead mob in the park across the street."

"There were only two of them out there, before you got here," Tom said. "How many are there now?"

Mike and Jensen looked out the window. Mike squeaked, "Lots."

"Lots!" Tom panicked, gripping Mike's shoulder.

"Look, believe me, it only takes one of them to know you're in here," Jared advised authoritatively. Jensen eyed him thoughtfully, biting his bottom lip. Jared focused on Jensen. "I tried calling but I couldn't get through. I have a plan."

"You have a plan?" Jensen mocked, arms folded across his chest.

"Look, you can't rely on everything you heard on the news; they don't know anything either." Clenching his jaw, Jared straightened to his full height, looming over Jensen in an attempt to be taken more seriously. His voice rose as he grew frustrated. "We have to get out of here. If we don't, those things'll come up here, and they'll tear us all to pieces."

Jensen shook his head. "Jay-" Jensen said in a placating tone.

"Look, Jen!" Jared grabbed Jensen by the biceps, instantly getting his wide-eyed attention. "This is not about you and me, all right? This is about survival. We need to be somewhere more secure; somewhere on the ground; somewhere we can stay alive."

"We're with you, Jared," Mike agreed passionately.

"What?" Jensen and Tom responded as one, both turning shocked expressions on Mike.

"We're...with...you?" Mike repeated a little less sure.

"I'm not going out there," Tom stated, pointing out the window.

"Tom! I don't want to be torn to pieces!" Mike pouted. "And, I'm sure, if you think about it for a minute, neither do you."

Tom shook his head. "I'm not going, not if Jen's not going."

"Of course, he's going," Mike argued, glaring at his boyfriend.

Jensen folded his arms across his chest, growing annoyed that they were talking about him as if he were not even there.

"Well, I'm not staying here by myself," Tom bickered.

Jared rolled his eyes.

"You are going, aren't you, Jen?" Mike asked anxiously.

"Jenny?" Tom asked.

"Jen?" Jared peered intently into Jensen's green eyes and held his breath.

Jensen seriously studied Jared, noting that something was different, beyond the consistent aura of panic everyone was wearing. He dropped his arms to his sides. "All right, Jay, what's your plan?"

"Great!" Jared released his breath. "We have a car outside. It's going to be really tight, but at least we'll all be together."

"Okay," Jensen nodded.

"So, everyone get a blunt object," Jared advised them. "If you get cornered, just bash their heads in." Mike looked horrified, Jensen looked like it might not be so bad, but Tom looked like it might actually be a little fun. "Keep close together, stay sharp, and follow me, okay?"

"Wait! You still haven't said what the plan _is_." Jensen said, putting his hand on Jared's arm to stop him from heading to the door.

Jared hesitated for the first time since he crawled in the window. "Oh, uh-" He rubbed the back of his neck and avoided meeting Jensen's eyes. "We're going to the Winchester," he mumbled.

"What? I didn't hear you?" Jensen asked.

"We're going to the Winchester," Jared replied louder.

The other three gaped at him.

"Okay? Let's go," Jared said and headed for the door.

  

  


* * *

  


 

The seven of them packed into the Porsche was a bit like fifteen clowns packed into a VW bug. What Mark lacked in height, being under six-feet tall, he made up for in muscle and stockiness. Only Sherri could be considered "normal" sized.

"Uh-Momma, this is Jensen; Jensen – Momma," Jared introduced, leaning forward awkwardly from the backseat as Chad slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

In the front seat, Sherri sat wedged between Chad and Jensen, which was not how Jared preferred the two most important people in his life to meet, but of course, Sherri handled it with the grace of Jackie Kennedy and would have been serving cocktails if the glove box held anything she could MacGyver into something edible.

"Oh! Hello, dear!" Sherri smiled genuinely pleased to meet the young man. "It's lovely to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Sheppard," Jensen blushingly replied with shy awkwardness.

"Oh, no, dear, Sherri, please."

"Yes, ma'am – uh – Sherri," Jensen nodded. "Hold on!" He threw an arm across her, bracing her back against the seat as Chad rammed into an infected person, knocking her over the hood and onto the sidewalk. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she said politely. "It's all fine."

"Chad, be careful!" Jared called from the backseat as Chad struck another shuffling target almost as if he were aiming for them. "Mark, just hold on," Jared told his sickly looking stepfather.

In the backseat, Mark, who continued to clutch his neck with blood-soaked tissue paper, was jammed between the door and Jared; on Jared's other side, Mike's six-foot frame was perched on Tom's lap – only perched was not really the right word. Really, he was bent into the car like a bald-headed Barbie with a bendable spine. He twisted under the too low ceiling so he could face Jared and Mark.

"Is your dad all right?" Mike asked with real worry.

Jared recited, "He's not my dad."

"He's bleeding." Mike uncomfortably moved his arm so he could point.

"I know!" Jared thrust his arm out to brace Mark for the impact of another of Chad's undead hit-and-run's. "Chad, be careful!"

"I thought you wanted to get there fast?" Chad replied, gripping the steering wheel as he yanked it ninety degrees causing the car to whip into a sharp turn with two of the wheels airborne. Everyone squished into each other on the right side of the car.

As the vehicle bounced back onto all four wheels, Jared ground out, "I want to get there in one piece!"

"Why are we going this way?" Doubting Tom questioned.

"Chill out," Chad nonchalantly encouraged. "It's a shortcut."

"But...that way goes right to The Winchester..." Tom frowned, pointing toward a street they passed.

Frowning, Jensen too turned to watch the disappearing street sign.

"Jared-" Mark moaned quietly.

"Chad!" Jared huffed.

"I'm taking us around the back, okay?" Chad defended.

"I still don't understand why we're going to The Winchester," Mike said.

"Because it's safe and it's secure," Jared said, rubbing his temples.

"And they know us," Chad added.

"What exactly makes it so secure?" Jensen asked.

"It has big heavy doors and deadbolts," Jared replied with his eyes closed, still rubbing at the growing headache.

"And there's a rifle above the bar," Chad stated.

"I doubt that works," Tom said.

"True," Mike attempted to nod.

"Why wouldn't it?" Chad challenged.

"Well, it's been hanging up there since Sam's dad opened the bar for starters, and it had to've been disabled during the gun ban," Tom stated, with a tone that indicated he thought Chad was a moron for missing the obvious.

"Nuh-uh, Jeff said Samantha told him at their wedding, if he ever cheated, she'd take that gun and ‘put three holes low' – not so's he'd be dead, but he'd sure wish he was," Chad grinned. "Samantha doesn't make threats she won't follow through on."

The other men in the car paused, picturing it, and then grimaced painfully.

Jared shook his head. "Yeah, but not everything Jeff says is true. He also said Anderson Cooper was gay."

"Is he?" Mike and Jensen asked, sounding hopeful and wistful at the same time.

Jared shook his head, and Tom smirked, "Of course not!"

However, Chad rebutted, "Of course, he is! The only woman you ever see him with is that Kathy Griffin – she's like you guy's D-List Gay Pied Piper."

A moment passed while the collective attempted to decide if the comment was worth addressing. Jensen blinked at Jared as if to say "He's your friend; do something."

Jared shook his head as if to clear it. "The bar is the right place to go. Everything is gonna be fine," he assured, keeping his eyes on Jensen.

"Jared," Mark moaned weakly.

"What? He stopped hitting things!" Annoyed, Jared gestured toward the front of the car.

Mark mumbled inaudibly.

"What?" Jared asked, turning what little he could to get a better look at Mark. The man was pale from the blood loss, Jared realized. He looked frail and weak; nothing like the smarmy, annoying bastard stepfather Jared disliked so much.

"Being a father isn't easy," Mark rasped, barely loud enough for Jared to hear.

Confused, Jared repeated, "What?"

"You were eleven when I met you, practically grown already, acting like you needed to be the man of the house for your mother. I just wanted you to be happy and grow up strong, not give up because you already lost your father," Mark squeezed Jared's hand.

Jared's brow creased as he listened. He did not want to hear any of this. "Mark, you don't have to explain-" Jared's voice broke.

"No, I do...I've always loved you, Jared...like a son...and I've always thought you've had it in you to do well...need to apply yourself. You just need...m-motivation. Someone to look up to and...I hoped it could be me...since you already had a father."

Tearing up like the big baby he was, Jared gripped Mark's hand in both of his hands. "I'm sorry, Dad-"

"W-would you just...take care of your mother?"

Jared nodded, sniffling.

"That's a good boy." Mark's eyes slid closed and Jared felt his hand go limp, heard Mark's head thump lightly against the window as his last breathe left his body.

Jared sniffled. "Chad, can you pull over?"

"Two seconds," Chad grumbled.

"Chad! Please pull over!" Jared responded angrily, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the palms of his hands.

"Why?" Chad petulantly asked.

"Just pull the fuck over!"

"All right, already!" Chad acknowledged, slamming on the breaks, sending the Porsche into a spin. The car stopped three-hundred and sixty degrees later after slinging away two more infected amblers, causing Jensen, Mike, Sherri, and Tom to scream a little like girls – more so Mike than the other three.

"What the hell?" Jensen yelled at Chad as he released Sherri from the protective hold he had pulled her into reflexively.

"Chill out. Everyone's fine," Chad casually replied.

"Stop saying ‘chill out'!" Jensen angrily ordered.

"Everyone is not fine!" Jared sobbed from the backseat causing everyone to look at him.

"What's wrong?" Jensen asked tensely.

"Momma...it's Mark; he's gone," Jared said softly.

"Gone where?" she asked.

Jared let his eyes close a second instead of banging his head repeatedly on the back of the seat in front of him. "Momma, he's dead," he revealed softly with a sniffle.

"No, he isn't," she replied.

Jared felt an argument coming on but he also felt movement on his left side, which should have been impossible. He reluctantly turned his head to see Mark's open, glazed over eyes staring at him. Just as a guttural sound began to form in Mark's throat, Jared yelled, "Get out! Get out of the car! Get out!"

"JesusFuckingChrist!" Tom swore and began fighting helplessly with the door handle.

Jensen threw open the passenger side door at the same time Chad pushed the driver's side door open.

"Get it open!" Mike screamed.

"I can't!" Tom panicked.

"Chad, the child locks!" Jared pleaded.

Jensen hauled himself out of the vehicle.

Chad desperately tried to find the right button to release the child locks.

"Quick!" Mike yelled hysterically.

Jensen reached in and helped Sherri slide out, graceful as ever, not a hair out of place, still not a wrinkle in her outfit. Even Jensen did not look that put together today in his faded blue jeans and black t-shirt.

AC/DC blared out of the car stereo as Chad accidentally hit the wrong button.

"The. Child. Lock!" Jared yelled, using the bat to hold off Mark.

"Chad!" Tom yelled.

Unable to wait any longer, Mike desperately crawled over the seat. Chad pulled him out of the car.

Following his boyfriend's lead, Tom scrambled over the seat and went out the other side, where Jensen and Sherri were standing.

Jared managed to pull himself out through the sunroof again and tumble onto the pavement. His heart was beating as hard as the music's beat.

Chad and Jensen slammed the car doors closed once everyone was safely out of the car.

Trying to catch his breath, Jared leaned against the car, staring at Jensen.

Jensen gave him a small reassuring smile. "Now what?" Jensen asked him.

Noting the oncoming walking dead, Jared crawled to his feet. "We keep moving."

Sherri stared anxiously into the car. "How are we going to get Mark out of the car?"

Jared sighed. "Momma..."

"We can't just leave him," Sherri replied, panic creeping into her voice, giving it a slightly shrill edge.

Jared wrapped his arms around her. "Momma, that's not your husband in there, okay? That's not Mark. I know it looks like Mark, but there's nothing left of the man you loved in that car."

Right at that moment, the music blaring from the Porsche stopped. They all turned to see undead Mark leaning over the front seat with his hands on the radio controls.

Sherri put her hands to her mouth as tears welled up in her big eyes.

Jared frowned and glanced at Chad who just shrugged in response.

"I hate to point this out, but all of our blunt objects are in the car," Mike said.

Jared ran his hands through his hair. "Well, we can't do anything about it now. Just look for anything you can use along the way. Come on; let's go." He gestured for everyone to follow him.

"You aren't seriously suggesting we walk!" Tom balked.

"Well, I don't think any of us can fly," Jared retorted, helping his mother along. "It's not that far."

"Yeah, come on," Jensen nodded, pushing Mike along. Tom sighed in defeat and followed Mike, allowing Chad to bring up the rear.


	11. Act XI: Catch Me If You Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch looked pretty much the way Jared remembered from when the FBI agent was a frequent visitor at the Padalecki house, before Gerald Padalecki met the wrong end of a bullet. The rumpled suit, the bloodstained trench coat, and the glazed-over eyes were not even that out of place in Jared's memory. The blood-smeared mouth and undead moaning were new developments though.

**ACT XI: "Catch Me If You Can"**

 

Later, as they marched single file down an alley, Jared turned so he was walking backwards to check on everyone. "How's everyone doing? Okay? Anyone need to take a break?" Jensen was in line behind him, followed by Tom, then Mike, his mom, and Chad, who appeared to be doing something with his cell phone.

"Oh, yeah, we're having a rave back here," Chad panted, not exactly in the same athletic shape he was in high school like Jared.

"Maybe we should all hold hands," Mike suggested. "Make a human chain, like back in school?" Sherri nodded and took his hand.

"Do you actually know where we're going?" Tom whined, which Jared thought really meant, "Are we there yet?"

Exasperated, Jensen chastised, "Tom!"

"Sorry," Tom mumbled.

Jensen took a few hurried steps so he was walking almost flush with Jared's back. "You do, don't you?" Jensen whispered.

The sudden contact with Jensen almost brought Jared to an abrupt halt. It took all of his willpower just to keep thinking and moving and not lose himself in the sensation of Jensen touching him, especially when the blood was draining from his brain to lower terrain. "Yeah, yeah, totally," he nodded, keeping his eyes moving ahead of them and definitely not turning to look at Jensen, because that would be his complete undoing.

"Are we close?" Jensen whispered near his ear.

Jared knew there was something wrong with him that just the feel of Jensen's warm breathe on his ear was a turn on, that the words were nowhere near naughty – well, in the current context -- and the situation was completely inappropriate; all of that made everything so much worse. "Uh...we're pretty close..."

Jared glanced through a slatted fence into a courtyard where three of the undead were feasting on a bloody body. He jerked back into their gruesome reality and placed a hand on Jensen's arm in an effort guide him along in hopes he missed the horror show.

"Is your mom gonna be okay?" Jensen asked in a more normal voice as they hurriedly walked side by side. Jensen glanced at Jared with worry from beneath his long lashes.

"I hope so," Jared answered, sounding uncertain. "Did you call your folks?"

Jensen shook his head, biting his bottom lip. "I couldn't get a line out of the city."

"Do you think this is happening there?" Squeezing Jensen's arm lightly, Jared gave him a comforting look. Jared knew there were reports of this in cities like New York too, but he had heard nothing about the West Coast so perhaps Texas was safe.

"God, I hope not. Plus, their ranch is in the middle of nowhere, so hopefully they're isolated enough," Jensen said. Of course, that could be a curse in and of itself.

Jared nodded. When he realized he was rubbing small circles in Jensen's back, he slowly dropped his arm. "Listen, Jen, about last night...I know a lot of things were said but-"

"I thought this wasn't about last night," Jensen interrupted quickly.

"No, you're right. It's not, but-"

"You said it was just about survival."

"It is, but-"

"You're not trying to prove something here, are you?" Jensen accused.

"No, of course-"

"Because, Jay, I meant everything I said last night. Nothing's changed." The sounds of distant screams caused Jensen to glance up nervously. "Maybe this isn't the best time for this conversation," he added hurriedly.

"Okay," Jared agreed with defeat.

Jared and Jensen rounded a corner and Jared slammed into something much shorter than him.

"Jared!" a familiarly nasal voice exclaimed in surprise.

"Sarah," Jared responded, blinking down at Sarah Michelle Prinze for the second time in as many days.

This time she was decked out in a camo-style jacket, army green t-shirt and army green jeans; she was armed with a top-of-the-line Titanium golf club. She had a line of people behind her too. "How's it going?"

Jared rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Uh...surviving."

"Hey, Jensen. Long time no see," Sarah grinned and waved like a chipper cheerleader. Her blonde ponytail bobbed with every movement.

"Hi, Sarah," he smiled at her, trying not to laugh. He had to admit that she always took on every situation 100%. He had once seen her in a tie-dyed wedding dress at a pro-gay marriage rally, beating an outspoken conservative talk show host with a sign that read: "Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself. Matt. 22:39."

"Um- You know my Freddy, right?" she gestured behind her.

Freddy Prince Jr. stepped forward to shake hands with Jared. "Hey, man. Good to see you again."

"Yeah," Jared nodded. "You too."

As Freddy and Jensen shook hands, Sarah continued. "And our friends Alyson and her hubby Alexis; my mom and our friend Seth." At the mention of their names, each person waved except Seth who was too busy pushing buttons on his cell phone to notice. A petite red head, Alyson Hannigan was clearly the fashion plate of the group; even her blunt object was a designer tennis racket. Her husband Alexis Denisof just hovered around her, doting and protective, making certain nary a manicured nail was broken. Sarah's mother, Rosellen, was the mirror image of Sarah only older – or was it the other way around? She had a more reserved air about her though, as if she did not think this was quite the adventure her daughter thought it was. Then there was Seth Green, the goofy-looking shrimp of the bunch, wearing pants that looked three sizes too big with hair that might not have been combed in days; clearly he was Sarah's very own Chad.

Sarah continued the introductions but going the other way, "And this is Jared and his boyfriend Jensen-"

"They broke up, actually," Tom interrupted.

"Oh? Really?" Sarah asked, sounding disappointed.

Ashamed, Jared ducked his head in confirmation.

"Yeah," Jensen mumbled, looking away.

"That's a shame," Sarah replied awkwardly. After a slight pause, she said, "Well, we should probably be moving on. Are you going somewhere in particular?"

"Uh- yeah, we're headed to The Winchester," Jared answered.

"The bar?" Sarah asked incredulously.

Jared glanced over his shoulder at the others for support. They stared at him blankly. "Yeah," Jared replied, annoyed.

"O...kay...Well...good luck with that." Sarah forced a smile, hugged Jared, and slipped past him in the alley, leading her little group of survivors onward.

Jared continued forward as well, leading his own group of survivors. As each person passed someone in the other group, they nodded a greeting, but there was a tension in the air like two little league teams meeting for the first time.

When Alyson and Mike reached each other, their eyes flitted over the other's outfit. Gasping at the same time, they each pointed at the other's feet and exclaimed, "I love those shoes! Where did you get them?" Meeting each other's eyes, they grinned at each other. "Oh, my God!"

Excitedly, Mike said, "Girl, when this is over, we _have_ to go shopping!"

"Absolutely!" Alyson replied.

"Hun." Alexis prodded her shoulder, nudging her to move.

Tom had stopped as well and was frowning at Mike.

"Oh! Get Sarah to get my number from Jay," Mike instructed.

As Alyson allowed herself to by pushed along, she nodded. "Oh, okay! Good luck!"

"How is it that no matter where we go, you always find someone to go shopping with?" Alexis asked.

"Shopping is the universal peace-maker, dear," Alyson assured him as they disappeared into the distance.

Shaking his head, Tom took Mike's hand. "Come on."

Five minutes later, Jared abruptly stopped, causing a slight pile up behind him. "See? The Winchester's just over there." He pointed in the direction of a fence ahead of them.

"Over where?" Tom questioned, sounding extremely doubtful.

"Over there," Jared insisted pointing again.

"Over the twenty fences?" Tom replied sarcastically.

"What's the matter, Tom? You never cut through anyone's backyard before?" Jared challenged. Showing off, he ran to the wood fence, grabbed the top with both hands and began to hoist himself up, but as soon as his weight was half way over, that section of the fence fell in toward the next yard.

Jensen smiled fondly at Jared's goofy klutziness, and Chad cracked up laughing at Jared's pain and embarrassment. Mike and Tom simply stood and stared.

Sherri glared angrily at all four of them. "Jared!" She ran over to her son to mother hen him. "Puppy, are you okay? Where does it hurt?"

He crawled to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass off his clothes. "'M' okay, Momma. I'm okay, really." He tried to shrug her mothering attention away, but secretly he relished it. "Come on. Everyone stop staring at me and let's go already." Ducking his head a little, so he could hide his embarrassment under his long bangs, Jared started walking across the yard toward the next fence.

Everyone hurried to catch up...except Sherri who casually looked around as she slowly wandered after them, clutching her purse. "You know...I think Mitch Pileggi lives around here," she commented thoughtfully, tapping her finger on her still perfectly glossed lips.

Jared led everyone over one more fence into a large yard turned into a plastic children's fantasyland of outdoor fun from swings to playhouses to sports equipment. "Now The Winchester is just over this fence, all right? Everyone stay where they are and I'll -" He looked around the rather tired, un-merry band. Something was not right. He chewed on his bottom lip. "Wait, are we all here?"

"One, two, three, four, five." Mike counted heads and nodded.

"There are six of us," Jared replied, dropping his chin to his chest with a sigh.

Jensen resisted the urge to reach out and give him a supportive hug. He understood Jared was under a lot of pressure and no one was making it easy.

The sounds of screaming reached them from the direction in which they had come. They all spun around in surprise.

"Momma!" Jared gasped. "I'm coming!" He sprinted toward the fence and easily scaled it.

Adrenaline brought him quickly back to the yard where Sherri lay face down on the ground. Squatting, he helped as she struggled to rise. "Are you okay?"

"I thought I saw your godfather," Sherri said, shaking as she clutched his arms. "But I don't think it's him." Her eyes were wide as Jared helped her stand.

Jared glanced over his shoulder to the blood-streaked open sliding glass doors leading into the small brick home. "I-I'm sure if this is Mitch's house, he's long gone," he assured her, brushing some leaves from her hair. When they turned to walk in the direction he had left Jensen and the others, Jared came face to face with Sherri's attacker.

Mitch looked pretty much the way Jared remembered from when the FBI agent was a frequent visitor at the Padalecki house, before Gerald Padalecki met the wrong end of a bullet. The rumpled suit, the bloodstained trench coat, and the glazed-over eyes were not even that out of place in Jared's memory. The blood-smeared mouth and undead moaning were new developments though.

    


* * *

 

Chad hunched over his cell phone playing an addictive reverse Tetris-like game involving jewels. Tom stood a foot or so nearby, arms folded tightly across his chest, scowling and pretending not to watch Chad's progress over his shoulder. Jensen had spat on two of his fingers and was rubbing vigorously on a few of Mike's sequins in an attempt to remove blood or brain spatter – he was really uncertain which it was at this point. Mike mirrored Jensen on another spot.

Exasperated, Mike sighed, "Maybe there'll be soda water at the bar." He dropped the hem of his shirt, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

Jensen patted him on the back, giving him a comforting smile.

The sounds of scuffling and footsteps grew louder. Jared and Mitch crashed through the same wooden fence Jared had disappeared over a short while ago, startling everyone.

Mike and Jensen immediately began scavenging the yard for something to use as an undead destroyer. They tore apart the kiddy table but the plastic legs were too light and wide.

Struggling to fight off the undead FBI agent, Jared kicked him away and scrambled to his feet. He glared at Chad and Tom. Neither had moved. "What are you doing?" Jared asked before undead Mitch grabbed him and he was distracted prying the creature's cold, rigid fingers off his arm.

Mike called his name and held up a volleyball pole.

"Yes!" He nodded frantically and caught it deftly as if it were a really long Excalibur that Mike had tossed him. First, he attempted to swing it to bash undead Mitch in the head, but it caught on the plastic castle playhouse.

"No! Jay!" Jensen called and when Jared looked over at them, Jensen and Mike mimed spearing the undead creature.

Understanding, Jared nodded. Gripping the volleyball pole like a spear, he took a running start and ran undead Mitch through the chest, pinning him to a tree. Undead Mitch wiggled on the pole like a worm on a hook, but louder.

Jensen and Mike cheered. They ran over to Jared for high fives, the three of them jumping and group-hugging in victory until it became awkward and they broke away eyeing each other uncomfortably. Jared and Jensen cleared their throats.

Mike looked back and forth between them and in a small voice said, "Yay?"

Jared and Jensen just glanced once more at each other before looking away. Jared swung around to face Chad and Tom, who were still standing exactly where they had been when Jared crashed through the fence with undead Mitch. "Feel free to step in any time," Jared sniped.

Chad shrugged, "You had it under control."

At the same time, Tom mumbled, "I didn't want to cramp your style."

Sherri appeared at the hole in the fence, sorting through her purse for tissues. "I'm so sorry about that." She put a hand to her hair to tuck the one stray strand back into place. Mike and Jensen rushed to her side.

Jared smoothed his hopelessly wrinkled, grass-stained shirt and stepped over to the plastic slide. "All right, everyone stay where you are. I'm just going to look over the fence to see if the coast is clear, okay?" He grabbed the handles of the slide's ladder and uncomfortably climbed the steps.

"Is it clear?" Tom asked when Jared was silent too long.

"No," Jared reluctantly answered, still not moving.

"How many?" Jensen asked, tucking Sherri's arm through his arm. He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Lots," Jared squeaked quietly.

Chad and Tom glanced at each other and then rushed to the fence. They pulled themselves up so they could peer over the edge. They blinked a few seconds before each of them dropped back to the ground.

Chad slid to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest.

"Well, that's just fucking great!" Tom exploded. "'Lots' at the apartment might have been less than twenty," he told Jensen and Mike. "But now ‘lots' apparently means hundreds."

Jared calmly climbed down the slide's ladder and turned to face the others, still in shock. "There _are_ quite a few of them."

Mike made a high-pitched shrill noise and covered his mouth with his hands. Jensen reached over with his free hand and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "It'll be okay," he whispered.

"I trust Jared has another genius scheme up his sleeve." Tom remarked sarcastically.

"That's hardly constructive, Tom!" Jensen replied.

"We should have stayed at the apartment," Tom bemoaned.

"Well, why didn't you?" Chad complained.

"Because...Because, because of..." Tom stammered. "Captain Underdog." He pointed accusingly at Jared, who winced.

"Will you stop it?" Jensen growled, tired of Tom's attitude. "We're not getting anywhere moaning and groaning."

As if on cue, Mitch groaned in response, wiggling on the pole.

Jared stared at him and then slowly grinned. "Maybe we can."

"What?" Jensen replied.

"We can get everywhere moaning and groaning," Jared said.

Chad looked up with new hope in his eyes. "Yeah..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tom frowned.

"All we have to do to get past all of those walking corpses is pretend we're as dead as they are already. We just have to shuffle slowly across the street, moaning and groaning, acting all brain dead and not call attention to ourselves," Jared suggested.

"Well, some of us don't have to _act_ brain dead," Tom commented.

"Good to know you're ahead of us on something, man." Chad patted him on the shoulder and skirted behind Jared before Tom could grab him.

"I don't know about this." Mike chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

"Oh, come on, Mike," Jared assured. He put an arm around Mike's shoulder. "Miz Michelle Rose could do it. She could shuffle circles round those undead creatures. I bet she could even teach the rest of us a thing or too." Jared offered Mike one of his patented Padalecki smiles with a touch of puppy-dog eyes.

Mike studied him. Then a slow smile slid across his face. "You're pushing all my buttons, sweetie..." The last word dripped with attitude.

Grinning, Jared kissed Mike on the cheek before stepping back to give him room.

With a bit of sashay in his hips Mike walked over to undead Mitch and studied him a minute or two, while the others watched. When he turned around, his whole demeanor had changed. Flair and flamboyance reverberated in every movement, every flick of the wrist, every swish of the hip, every tilt of the head. Everything about him was so much more. The Diva was in, darling!

"All right now, everyone in a semi-circle. Hurry up. We don't have all day," Mike directed impatiently. When everyone had gathered around him, he continued. "Now, let's all shake out. Loosen up." He spread his arms wide and loosely shook his limbs. "Get nice and limber; let it all hang out..." He made the last phrase drip so dirty Tide would never get it clean.

Mike sashayed over to Mitch, and with one hand on his hip, began pointing to Mitch as if he were a biology lab rat. "Okay, take a look at the way he moves – very limp, almost like he's sleepwalking, and look at the face; it's vacant with a hint of sadness ...He's mindless, but full of wistful longing – like a debutante who just realized her prom date is gay...he's mournful, sorrowful; he's dead and he hates it."

Mike stepped back into the center of the semi-circle. "Okay, let's try, shall we?"

   


* * *

 

Amazingly, a clump of six non-blood-smeared amblers crossing a street full of walking dead did not catch the attention of the aforementioned walking dead – even when they sped up slightly or when their moans sounded more like "Go, go, go!" and "Shit! It's gonna touch me!"

Finally, in front of The Winchester, Jared let out a sigh of relief, but they were not safe yet. When he pulled on the door, it remained shut, of course. Everyone huddled together behind him as he banged on the door. "Samantha?...Sam! Jeff! Are you there?" Jared banged on the door again. "It's Jared and Chad!"

Jensen stood next to Jared, one arm wrapped around Sherri's waist as if to both hold her up and keep her from bolting. Sherri simply stood quietly in shock; yet somehow, her clothes remained wrinkle free, and. despite her wide, somewhat wild eyes, she still wore a small smile.

Tom eyed the sea of undead streaming past them down the street. He noted that a few had taken an interest in the noise Jared was making. "They can hear you," he gritted out lowly between barely moving lips. He tried to remain undead-like to the passer-by's.

Jared ignored Tom as usual and banged on the door some more. "Samantha! Jeff!"

"They know...," Mike warned quietly, watching as more of the undead began to turn their way.

"I can't see them," Chad reported in a whisper as he peeked into the thick, dark windows.

"Jay, we need to get inside. Now," Jensen implored in a quiet tone, griping Jared's arm, causing Jared to look down at where Jensen's fingers curled around his bicep. As dangerous and immediate as the situation was all Jared's brain could do in that one second was think, " _He's touching me! Oh, God, he's touching me! Oh, my God, he's touching me!_ " like a thirteen year-old girl with a crush.

"Break the window," Tom suggested quietly, looking around from something heavy enough to use.

"No! We'd be exposed!" Jared replied slightly louder than he should have, pulling out of his Jensen-stupor.

"We're exposed now! Break the window!" Tom insisted in a loud whisper, continuing his search as more and more of the creatures began ambling toward them.

"Is there another way in?" Jensen asked in a hurried hushed tone.

Jared ran a hand through his hair as he turned to Jensen. "Yeah, there's-"

" _Mother-fucker I'm awesome!_ " Rapper S'pose reverberated loudly over the low moaning and hushed conversation. Shocked, everyone turned toward Chad, even the sea of undead. " _No, you're not, dude. Don't lie._ "

Chad held up two fingers. "Two seconds." He pressed a button and said into the phone, "Hey, dumbass."

" _Hey, man,_ " the voice on the other end replied.

"Yeah, B, I can't talk now," Chad said.

" _You get anything yet?_ "

Chad shook his head. "No, I got nothing."

Pissed off and fed up, Jared swiped the phone out of Chad's hand and threw it as far as he could.

"Hey! What're you doing?" Chad demanded angrily.

Jared grabbed Chad's shirt and yanked him forward so they were nose to nose. "What. Are. You. Doing? Moron!"

"Fuck off!" Chad replied, pushing at Jared's chest.

"You fuck off!" Jared let Chad go with a shove.

Red in the face, Chad stumbled back a few steps. "Fuck fucking off!"

Jared smacked him on the side of his head.

"Jay!" Chad complained, clutching his head.

Jared smacked the other side. "I've spent an entire life-" When Chad was too distracted rubbing where Jared hit him, Jared grabbed Chad's face and forced Chad to look him in the face. "Look at me. I've spent my entire life sticking up for you, and all you ever do is fuck things up. Fuck things up and make me look stupid. Well, I'm not gonna let you do it anymore! Not today!"

"Jay-" Jensen grabbed his arm, not so much to save Chad but to remind him they had an audience...of hundreds...of undead, who wanted to eat them.

Jared looked around at the horde, which now had turned its entire attention on Jared and Chad. "Oh...yeah."

"You were saying there's another way in?" Mike asked with hope in his voice.

"Yeah, there's-" Jared began, sweeping his arm in a wide gesture.

Tom panicked. He lifted the heavy metallic garbage can and threw it into one of The Winchester's windows, shattering it in a rain of thick yellow glass.

"No!" Jared yelled too late.

"Get inside!" Tom instructed everyone.

"No, they'll follow us," Jared warned.

"What?" Tom responded in near hysterics.

"What else are we going to do?" Jensen asked.

Jared quickly assessed the situation. "All right, wait to go inside until they aren't looking."

"What are you talking about?" Jensen replied.

"Just wait," Jared gave him a thin lopsided smile. He ran to the corner. Waving his long arms and jumping up and down, he called, "Hello! Hey, over here!" As the undead turned and began ambling toward him, he yelled, "Come on! That's it! That's it! Over here! Come on! Shit!"

"Jay! Where are you going?" Jensen called.

"I won't be long; I promise. Come on, fucking flesh-eating undead fuckers, let's go! Follow me! Come on, this way, that's it!" Jared began jogging backwards down the street, waving his arms and calling to them. "Come on! This way! Follow me! Come and get it! All you can eat! Meals-on-Wheels!"

 


	12. Act XII: Ready To Rumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom smacked away Chad's hand. "Don't....touch me. I don't want any of your douchy hetero-ness rubbing off."

**ACT XII: "Ready to Rumble"**

Without power, or the familiar sounds of Samantha behind the bar or even a few of the regulars propped in their usual places, The Winchester seemed eerily like the undead creatures beyond its doors – surreal and not alive. Sunlight filtered through the semi-sheer off-white curtains hung over thick yellow glass, but even in late afternoon, everything was washed out and poorly lit, mostly silhouettes, shadows, and shapes. When night finally fell, there would be nothing but darkness.

"He's been gone a good twenty minutes," Tom remarked, checking his watch for the tenth time.

Oblivious, Sherri sat in a booth fussing with the Monet's Garden bouquet she discovered on a table near the door. Mike sat next to her just to keep an eye on her, but she seemed content with her flowers.

Behind the bar, Jensen paused in his search through drawers and shelves for candles to scowl at Tom, and Chad looked up from choosing a bottle of wine to give Tom a dirty look.

"We need to think about blocking up this window," Tom explained, striving to be practical. "We're totally exposed."

"How would Jared get in?" Mike inquired.

"I'm sure he'll knock," Tom huffed, glaring at his unsupportive boyfriend.

Mike shook his head at Tom, telepathically entreating him to realize he was being an anxious asshole. Tom looked from Mike to Jensen to Chad and saw none of them showed any signs they were going to agree. He sighed with resignation, shoved his hands in his pockets, and returned to his pacing.

Chad stepped around the bar and set a bottle of white wine and a wine glass on the table in front of Sherri. "Here you are, Sherri," he smiled at her politely. "I noticed you served this one at Thanksgiving; I hope it's okay."

Sherri looked at the bottle and then at Chad. "Whatever you select is fine, dear," she smiled.

Neither Mike or Jensen had ever heard Chad so polite and gentle with anyone. Awestruck, his mouth hanging open, Mike stared up at Chad, and Jensen halted his search to verify it was indeed Chad speaking.

Pleased, Chad smiled happily at Sherri, uncorked the wine bottle, and poured her a glass. He set both down in front of her again and headed back to the bar. When he noticed Jensen staring at him, he paused. "What?"

Jensen shook his head, smiling as if he knew a secret. "Nothing."

"Well, let's at least get some lights on." Tom abruptly stalked to the panel of light switches and began flipping them randomly.

"Tom, wait!" Jensen spun around to stop him.

None of the lights so much as flickered. "Power's out," Tom stated, anxiously.

"That's a good thing," Jensen replied. "We don't want to advertise we're here any more than we already have."

"Right," Tom grumbled.

"Do we, Tom?" Jensen prodded through gritted teeth.

"No...," Tom replied petulantly. "I'm just trying to be...proactive. There's no lights, no power; where's Samantha and Jeff?...and there's a hole in the window." He gestured widely toward the broken window.

"Which you put there, dumbass," Chad accused from behind the bar.

"Well, somebody had to do something!" Tom defended. "Was I the only one who noticed we were in some serious shit out there? One of us had to take charge of the situation." He stood, feet just shoulder-width apart, back straight, fists on hips with elbows pointed out, and blue t-shirt pulled tight across his muscular chest. "If no one else is prepared to accept that responsibility, then perhaps...I should." The transformation from mild-mannered English teacher to leader of the pack took effort, if the slight trembling of his upper lip revealed anything.

"Will Jared be gone long?" Sherri asked between sips of wine.

Jensen's green eyes softened as he gave her a reassuring smile. "He'll be back soon."

"What makes you so sure?" Tom asked. He flung his arms up and let them fall loosely to his sides as a sign of his continued exasperation.

"He wouldn't abandon us," Jensen insisted.

"Wouldn't he? How can you trust a man you dumped for being unreliable?" Tom challenged. "A man whose ideal hot spot for a romantic evening out is the very same place that comes to his mind when he thinks ‘impenetrable fortress'?" Tom's fingers air-quoted.

Scowling, Jensen folded his arms across his chest. "Look...This is different." Jared was different. Jared had taken charge from the moment he crawled through their window. He might not always know exactly the right thing to do, but he was determined, and he was trying. He continued to push forward; Jared put all of them before himself consistently throughout the day without a second thought – even Mike and Tom. Jared was different. Jensen worried his bottom lip. "Let's just wait for Jared. We'll barricade the window when he gets back."

"Then what?" Tom demanded approaching Jensen, arms outstretched, begging for real answers. "How long? Days? Weeks?...A month? What are we supposed to do? What are we going to eat?"

"Nuts!" Chad declared.

Startled, they turned to face him.

"Chips and salsa; nachos; pretzels, corn nuts, Chex mix, onion blossoms, ...plus there's a grill out back-" Chad gestured over his shoulder.

"Great, a sustenance of bar snacks," Tom mumbled. "That must be why Jared brought us here before he ran away."

"He's coming back!" Jensen insisted with a little stamp of one foot.

"Why? Because he ‘promised'?" Tom snorted using the universal finger-quotes again. "He's always followed through so well in the past...Even if he does make it back, do you really think his grand master plan's going to extend to anything more than eating snacks in the dark? Do you honestly think he's just gonna stroll in and suddenly everything's going to be miraculously okay?" Tom waved his arms as if to signify casting a magic spell.

Exasperated, Jensen huffed. "I don't know, Tom! I don't know any more than you do, okay? But what I do know is that we're here now, and we have to make the best of it."

"Chad, get me a double shot of Jack," Jared said from the door leading to the basement.

"Right," Chad replied, quickly moving to fill the order.

Everyone else turned to look at Jared. He was slightly sweaty, flushed, and a little out of breath. One hand casually gripped the top of the doorjamb as he let most of his weight lean against the right side of the open passageway. Hazel eyes blinked casually around the room as if everything were normal.

Jensen grinned at him, letting the relief that Jared was alive wash over him, letting Jared see the pride on his face. "I'll have a drink too -- beer."

"Me too," Mike chirped.

"'Kay!" Chad played bartender, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

Jared closed the door behind him as he sauntered into the room. Jensen met him when he reached the bar. "Hello," he said softly. "Glad you made it."

"Promised you I would." Smiling to reveal his dimples, Jared winked at him.

Chad set the whiskey in front of Jared. "Fuck it! Let's have an end-of-the-world party and get completely trashed!" Chad grinned.

Jared downed the whiskey in a single shot to ease his nerves. He could use about ten more of those to feel as confident as he was pretending. He hoped no one noticed the slight shaking of his hands.

"Might as well," Tom sarcastically replied to Chad. "We have bar snacks."

"Tom!" Mike chastised.

Shrugging, Tom rolled his eyes as he went to barricade the window.

Jared grabbed a couple bottles of beer and headed for the booth. When Sherri saw him, she beamed, "Puppy!"

He bent and pecked her cheek. "Hi, Momma, you all right?"

She nodded cheerfully and held up her newly refilled wine glass. "Chad gave me wine!"

Jared nodded slowly as he eyed the glass. "What about everyone else? Everyone, okay?" He scanned the room as he set the bottles down on one of the tables.

"Yeah," Chad replied as he arrived with an armful of beers and bags of snacks. He dumped the loot on a nearby table, then flipped around a chair and straddled it before grabbing a beer for himself.

"Any sign of Samantha and Jeff?" Jared asked.

"No," Jensen shook his head, swiping one of the beers and sliding into the booth. "We haven't seen them."

"Check upstairs?" Jared questioned, as he used the edge of the table to pop the cap off his beer.

"It's locked," Jensen replied, holding out his unopened beer to trade for Jared's now open one.

Without looking, Jared automatically traded bottles with Jensen. "Phones?"

"Dead. Same as the power," Tom replied, arm muscles rippling as he piled the coat rack on top of the pile in front of the window.

Jared popped the cap off his beer using the same method. "Okay." He slid into the booth next to Jensen and took a pull of his beer, relaxing.

"Uh...How-how did you lose them?" Mike asked as he struggled to open his beer without ruining his nails.

Jared shrugged. "It wasn't hard. They're kind of slow and they weren't difficult to outsmart, you know." Jared tapped his temple with a finger.

"Yeah, but how did you get in?" Tom asked as he joined them, pulling up a chair so he could sit next to Mike. He took Mike's beer and popped the cap off using the end of the table the way Jared had, before handing it back.

"The back door." Jared glared at Tom. "I was trying to tell you but you were just dying to smash in the window."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one drawing attention to all of us by having a tiff with my hetero-life partner," Tom replied.

"Hey!" Chad replied angrily and shoved Tom's shoulder. "He's not my life partner! Don't project your gay on me, man!"

Tom smacked away Chad's hand. "Don't....touch me. I don't want any of your douchy hetero-ness rubbing off."

Chad paused. "Nice one." He begrudgingly handed Tom a beer.

The group fell into silence for a minute before Jensen said, "So...what's the plan?"

"Would...anyone like a peanut?" Jared offered as he reached for the miscellaneous snacks Chad brought from behind the bar.

 

* * *

 

"I don't believe you," Jensen said, shaking his head.

"What? I totally did get sent home for convincing the kid to play _I want Your Sex_ on the church piano," Chad argued, slamming the beer bottle on the table. "Tell him, Jay."

"No, I believe you'd do that," Jensen chuckled. "I just don't believe they let you into Vacation Bible School in the first place."

Everyone but Sherri snickered. Sherri was a little too drunk to be in the real world right then, but at least she was still smiling.

"Nice one," Chad grinned, the gleam of his teeth a little whiter in the bar, now that the sun was setting.

Jared blinked at the light trickling through the curtained-covered windows. "Hey, the power's on."

"No, it's not. I tried it earlier," Tom replied.

"Yeah, well, the streetlights are on; so the power grid must be on," Jared said, unfolding from the booth and walking closer to the windows to squint at the streetlights. "I'll just flip the fuses and we can watch t.v."

"But what about the lights?" Jensen worried.

"Yeah, we don't want to advertise our location more than we already have," Tom echoed.

"The lights are on a separate circuit. I'll be careful to just flip the right breakers," Jared replied, acting as if he actually had a clue what he was talking about. "It's really quite simple, Tom," he added snidely.

When no one argued about it, Jared headed back into the basement, which had been refurnished at some point in the past to serve as a storage room and an office. Crates and boxes of a variety of alcohol and alcoholic drinks were stacked on one side, while a desk and all the amenities were situated on the other. The fuse box was on the far wall between an old payphone and the back door. Beyond the back door was a small, underground parking area on a slant leading up to the street, which is how Jared had snuck into the bar. In the dark, Jared double-checked the lock on the door, verifying it was sturdy and definitely locked. Then he flicked open the fuse box door and studied the panel. He flipped a switch and called, "Is that it?"

Jensen replied, "That's it!"

Jared peered harder at the panel. Like any man, unable to resist the call of playing with buttons and switches, he casually flipped another switch. A light to his right came on, startling him. The basement had another door, of which he had been unaware, leading outside. Now, it was lit up like a spotlight in the dark. Instantly, he could see an uncountable number of undead pressed against the glass in the door. More importantly, they could see him. The door rattled as they began pressing toward him. Jared felt fear spike through him and reflexively flipped the switch back off, plunging the basement back into darkness. After a moment's hesitation, he yanked the vinyl shade down, hiding the glass, and the horror beyond, and ran up the steps back to the bar. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, panting, wishing away the last few seconds of his life.

Mike stood in front of the flat screen television Jeff and Samantha used for major sports events. He flipped through the channels as everyone else stared hypnotically at the screen. A steady, painful tone alerted audiences that every channel was experiencing difficulties.

"Two hundred channels and still nothing on," Jensen joked when he felt Jared join him near the pool table. When Jared remained quiet, Jensen looked up at him, and noticed how pale and shaken Jared suddenly was. "What's wrong?"

"I think we might have a small problem," Jared whispered, glancing over his shoulder at the basement door.

"What kind of problem?" Jensen whispered, eyes following Jared's glance.

"They followed me."

Jensen blinked. "I thought you lost them," Jensen replied, his fingers slowly wrapping around Jared's arm due to both panic and a need to steady Jared.

"Yeah..." Worrying his bottom lip, Jared looked slightly panicked, not as much as when he screwed up the dinner reservations, but nearly.

"Well, we'll just have to be extra quiet then, won't we?" Jensen said, running a reassuring hand up and down Jared's bare arm.

Jared nodded eagerly. He would agree to anything as long as Jensen would keep touching him. He realized how stupid it sounded in his head, how weak it made him. Jensen only dumped him yesterday, less than twenty-four hours ago. When they were dating, sometimes they went days without seeing each other, touching each other, but being told he was no longer allowed to touch Jensen, kiss Jensen, love Jensen, made every second they did not touch, did not kiss, did not hold each other, whispering loving promises of ever after to each other -- made every half-second, every millisecond, without those things -- pure agony. He would steal these little moments and pretend whenever he could.

The sound of Mrs. Pac-Man starting sliced through the silence like an infomercial knife cutting through an aluminum can.

Jared and Jensen turned as one to see Chad standing in front of the video game like a kid at Christmas.

"Chad, no!" Jensen cried. Jensen ran to Chad and yanked him away from the game.

"Turn it off!" Jared barked at the same time; he ran to the machine and yanked the plug out of the wall.

Mrs. Pac-Man died instantly.

The damage was done, however. Low groaning surrounded the building. Silhouettes appeared in the windows. The windows and doors rattled as the undead things outside tried to get to the living things inside.

Bristling, Chad jerked away from Jensen. As the rattling and groaning grew louder, His expression changed to one of apprehension; he slowly moved to stand protectively by Sherri.

As more silhouettes appeared in the windows, Tom fretfully moved closer to Mike, who stood as still as a terror-stricken, patriotic-sequined possum.

Jared reached over to put a protective hand on Jensen's shoulder – just in case he needed to shove Jensen behind him, to save him from any oncoming assault.

A hand painfully gripped Tom's shoulder. He did a quick mental checklist of exactly where everyone in the room was and no one's left hand should actually be on his left shoulder. Unable to make sound come out of his mouth, he jerked away. Tom spun around to find an undead Jeff missing a bloody chunk of flesh from his neck and shoulder. "JeasusFuckingChrist!" he finally hissed.

Jeff snarled and moaned in response.

Clutching each other to escape to the other side of the room, Tom and Mike stumbled away from the undead trophy husband.

"Where the hell did he come from?" Jensen demanded, fists clenching at his sides.

"I don't know." Jared shook his head. He wished away the fact that another person he knew had turned into one of these...these things.

The jukebox switched on without warning. Freddie Mercury crooned slow and sweet with the promise of something to dance to not far behind.

" _Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time..._ "

"Who the hell put this on?" Jared blurted in a slightly high-pitched voice.

"It's on random," Chad answered off-handedly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Jensen exclaimed.

"Okay, Mike, get my mom somewhere safe." Jared immediately took charge. He, Jensen and Chad moved into fighting stances in front of Jeff.

" _I feel alive and the world it's turning inside out Yeah!..._ "

Mike ran to Sherri's side to help her stumble to a booth on the other side of the bar. Sherri grabbed her bouquet and her wine glass. She could not abandon her post without either of those.

"Tom, kill the Queen!" Jared ordered.

"Wh- What?" Tom stammered.

"The jukebox! Shut off the damned jukebox." Jared gestured in the direction of the psychic machine. "All right, Jen, Chad, grab something ‘weapon-y'!"

Tom ran to the jukebox and began to fiddle with it.

"What about the rifle?" Chad suggested, pointing to the Winchester hanging above the bar.

"It's not real!" Jared retorted.

" _I'm floating around in ecstasy..._ "

"Molotovs," Chad suggested.

"What?" Jensen asked.

"You know, flaming spirits. Drambuie, Sambuca, brandy. Get a rag and light it," Chad explained.

"No way! The whole place could go up!" Jared shook his head. Jared could picture it too -- give Chad a lighter and something flammable, and civilization really would be over in seconds.

"Well, I don't hear any genius ideas from you two dumbasses" Chad replied, frustrated.

" _So don't stop me now don't stop me..._ "

Jared desperately looked around the bar for inspiration, eyes finally settling on the racks of pool sticks. "How ‘bout pool?" He hurdled over the pool table, grabbed a pool stick, tossed one to Jensen, grabbed another, tossed it to Chad, grabbed another, hurdled back over the pool table, and landed neatly between Jensen and Chad to face undead Jeff. "Okay, Jeff, let's do it."

" _'Cause I'm having a good time having a good time..._ "

They surrounded undead Jeff, taking turns hitting him with the pool sticks in time with the beat.

" _I'm a shooting star leaping through the skies..._ "

Unable to find a switch to turn off the jukebox on its front or sides and unable to reach its plug, Tom desperately decided to run into the basement to find the fuse to flip.

Undead Jeff grunted with every hit. He almost seemed to be swinging his hips to the music even as he grabbed Jared in an attempt to take a bite of him. Jared struggled to pull out of his grip and fell on his ass. He quickly scrambled to his feet and rejoined the fray.

" _Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity..._ "

In the basement, not bothering to read any labels on the panel, Tom tried every switch, flipping them on and off, listening for the jukebox to turn off, which why he noticed the silhouettes beyond the vinyl shaded door to his right. He never actually found the correct switch because the shattering of the glass in the door from the pressure of so many undead bodies pushing against it distracted him.

" _I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva..._ "

Tom stumbled back a few steps as corpse-like hands reached through the window to grab at him. The new threat of creatures marching through the now unlocked backdoor leading to the underground parking area almost went unnoticed. Fortunately, he heard the groaning before one could bite him.

" _I'm gonna go go go..._ "

Feeling sick, Tom shoved his attacker away, raced up the stairs, slamming the door behind him, and locking it. He leaned against the door, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Mike and Sherri watched the battle from the safety of the other side of the room. Mike rocked back and forth to the beat as he prayed each smack of a pool stick would put an end to the fight.

" _There's no stopping me..._ "

When Jared caught sight of Tom, he yelled, "Why is Queen still on?"

"Uh...We have a situation!" Tom jabbered; he pointed toward the basement, eyes wild.

" _I'm burning through the skies Yeah!_ "

"I know!" Jared growled, more frustrated than ever.

"Fuck this!" Chad declared, abandoning his pool stick.

" _Two hundred degrees..._ "

"Chad!" Jared huffed just as his own pool stick split in two. He tossed the two pieces on the floor.

"Two seconds," Chad promised, holding up two fingers. He ran toward the bar.

Jared grabbed undead Jeff to distract him from Jensen and spun him around to punch him.

" _That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit..._ "

"Hey!" Jensen addressed Jared. Jensen held up a fire extinguisher and grinned.

Grinning in reply, Jared spun undead Jeff around again to face Jensen. Jensen smashed undead Jeff in the face four times in sync with the music. Then he sprayed undead Jeff in the face with the toxic chemicals.

" _I'm trav'ling at the speed of light..._ "

Undead Jeff merely turned and launched himself at Jared's throat.

"Jay!" Mike called and threw a dart at undead Jeff and -- because he was struggling with him -- at Jared. Mike missed. The dart hit the Mrs. Pac-Man machine.

"No!" Jared screamed, glaring wide-eyed at Mike. Jared could see this would end badly for someone, probably him.

" _I wanna make a supersonic man of you..._ "

Mike threw a second one. Jared's headache got much worse as the dart pointedly thudded against his hard skull, piercing the skin but falling to the floor.

Jared screamed in pain.

" _Don't stop me now I'm having such a good time..._ "

"Jay!" Chad called from on top of a bar stool.

Blood dribbling down the side of his face, Jared looked expectantly at his best friend.

Chad held the legendary Winchester rifle in his hands. He cocked it, face serious, and tossed it to Jared.

Jared let go of undead Jeff and caught the rifle deftly with both hands. Using it as a battering ram of sorts, he used it to push undead Jeff back and slung him away, spinning him face first into the jukebox.

" _I'm having a ball don't stop me now..._ "

The jukebox lit up one last time in a burst of electrical sparks, stars, and flashes around undead Jeff before going silent.

Silence flooded the room, curling into every nick and cranny, but for the groaning of the creatures outside the bar.

Holding the rifle, Jared stood, panting, staring at undead Jeff's awkward body, ass out into the room. Jared grimaced. Jeff had been his friend. Jared ached in his chest where there were no muscles.

Disappointed, Chad asked, "Why didn't you just shoot him?"

Jared sighed and turned to face the rest of the group. "Chad, for the last time, it's not-," The rifle went off knocking Jared backward into a table and several chairs; a bullet flew across the room, breaking a perfectly good bottle of Scotch on a shelf less than half a foot away from Chad.

Everyone jumped; Mike, Sherri, and Jensen gasped.

"I fucking knew it!" Chad grinned, too excited or too stupid to be scared. "What did I tell you?"

Jared climbed to his feet. "Okay," Jared agreed, rolling his shoulder, feeling the soreness of the recoil. "But Anderson Cooper is _not_ gay," he said in all seriousness.


	13. Act XIII: Better Off Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years of dealing with Tom's snide remarks and insults plus two exceptionally stressful days meant not even Superman could have held Jared back. Before anyone knew what happened, Jared had Tom pressed against one of the square columns at the end of the bar. Jared had one hand around Tom's throat and one hand bunched in his shirt. "Don't. Point that gun at my Momma," he said coolly, his face mere inches from Tom's face.

**ACT XIII: "Better Off Dead"**

  


After a short hunt, Chad and Mike found the ammunition that went with the Winchester rifle, and Jensen found a first aid kit. However, though Jared normally made a perfectly pliable patient for Jensen, he had too much anxious energy, too much responsibility on his broad shoulders to sit still long enough for more than allowing Jensen to clean the head wound.

"Jay," Jensen chastised, holding the gauze and the antibiotic cream.

Jared ignored him, inspecting the rifle. "Has anyone fired a gun before?"

"Oh! Yeah!" Chad raised his hand from his perch on the bar.

"Other than Chad?" Jared asked, looking around the group as they gathered closer.

Tom shook his head. "I don't believe in using guns."

Jared stared at Tom in disbelief. "Other than Chad and Tom?"

"Um...what's Chad's experience?" Jensen asked as he attempted to apply first aid to Jared, whenever Jared stood still for a few seconds.

"HeShotHisSisterInTheAssWithABBGun," Jared said quickly.

Jensen stared at Chad. He thought he should be a little surprised, but, honestly, the whole thing did not surprise him in the least. There was not even the smallest twinge of horror. However, Jensen still felt a strong sense of self-preservation. Turning back to Jared, he said, "I think you should do it."

"I think we should all do it," Jared said thoughtfully, letting Jensen apply the antibiotic and gauze, but only because it meant Jensen was touching him; it meant Jensen still cared about him at least a little bit.

"How can five people operate one gun?" Tom asked.

"Well, no one has any experience and we've got..." Jared looked questioningly at the box of ammunition Chad clutched on his lap.

Chad flipped the top open and counted. "Twenty-nine." He flipped the top closed again.

Jared continued, "Twenty-nine bullets-"

Chad cleared this throat. "Shells."

"What?"

"They're called shells," Chad corrected.

"Fine. We have twenty-nine shells. We really need to work together on this. I need one person to help reload; everyone else can be spotters, and I'll fire." Jared decided. He paced away and pivoted back to face the group. His face grew deadly serious. "As the great Martin Luther King Junior once said, ‘We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.'" He looked each of them in the eye. "I think we can all appreciate that at the moment."

Everyone nodded, mumbling amongst themselves.

Jared thought that pep talk went much better than the one yesterday morning at Kripke's Electronics. He gave himself a mental pat on the back.

Jensen stepped closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and gazing up at him with thinly disguised curiosity. In a hushed voice, he asked, "Babe, did you get that off a Snapple cap?"

"Yeah," Jared replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I won't tell anyone," Jensen smirked.

"Thanks," Jared grinned, showing dimples.

The pile of junk barricading the hole in the window wobbled. The coat rack and a few other items toppled to the floor making a racket. Glass shattered as one of the other windows gave way.

"I think they want to come in," Mike sang nervously.

"Jen, get my mom out of the way," he told Jensen. "Tom, Mike, you're on. Chad, give me some shells." Jared stalked to a position in the room that he felt best covered all of the angles.

Jensen hurried to Sherri. "Sherri?"

Resting her chin on one hand, Sherri's heavy-lidded eyes slid open. She smiled weakly at Jensen. "Oh, hello," she sing-songed and tipped her wine glass at him.

"Why don't you come with me?" Jensen offered her a courteous hand.

"That would be lovely, dear," Sherri replied, standing. She held onto her flowers and wine glass and yet managed to wrap her arm through Jensen's arm in a lady-like manner. "Such a handsome gentleman. It's easy to see why Jared's so taken with you. You know, it's nice to finally meet you," she said as they slowly travelled to a corner far from the windows. "Jared's always going on and on about you."

"Really?" Jensen asked with genuine surprise.

"Oh, yes, dear. He's quite smitten, I can tell. He's never worried so much about bringing a boy home before." She tripped over something unseen on the floor and clutched Jensen for support. When she did, she winced, whimpering.

"Sherri?" Jensen searched her face for answers. "Are you all right?"

Sherri swallowed, shaking her head; she was trembling, and he realized she seemed unusually pale. He began a quick, cursory physical. He set her flowers and wine glass on a nearby table.

Abruptly, she grabbed Jensen's hands. "I have something for you, dear." She reached behind her neck and unclasped a chain, pulling a silver, oval locket from around her neck. "Jared's father gave me this – Jared's real father, I mean. I'd like you to have it. It would mean so much to me, knowing it was in the right hands." Sherri placed it in Jensen's hands, her big eyes, searching Jensen's to be certain he understood. She needed him to understand she was placing more than just a necklace in his care.

"Sherri, Jared and I have –uh-..." Jensen felt like a deer caught in headlights. Sherri was under the illusion that he and Jared were still a couple. She was oblivious to the heartache Jensen had caused her precious son. She would never be giving Jensen this precious necklace, implying so much more, if she knew the truth, knew that Jensen had callously broken Jared's heart, and, yet, Jared had still come for him, could not leave Jensen to die at the hands of monsters. Jensen really wanted what Sherri was offering, all of it, the locket, the responsibility for Jared...

"It seems only right." She grimaced in pain.

Jensen looked down at their hands intertwined together. That is when he noticed the folded tissue peeking from under Sherri's long sleeve. He glanced up at her face with a questioning look and pulled her sleeve up a little to reveal the blood-soaked tissue. Jensen gasped. His green eyes widened.

"I didn't want to say anything," she said. "I thought Jared would be worried..."

Tearful, Jensen hugged her. "Oh, Sherri."

Jared finished loading the rifle just as Tom warned, "Here they come!"

Jared instructed the others to stay behind him. They crowded closely behind him, pressing together, until they were one glob of panicked gun torrent.

"There's one!" Mike pointed at one of the broken windows.

"Sorry, we're closed!" Jared snarled at the incoming unwanted attackers. He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Jared looked puzzled.

"Try the safety button!" Tom offered.

"No, cock it!" Chad ordered.

Jared cocked the rifle and aimed. He pulled the trigger and missed the creature's head by a foot. He cocked the rifle again, aimed, and fired. The second bullet hit the wall further away.

"Over there!" Mike pointed, jumping up and down like a little girl who had to pee.

"Over where?" Jared asked with frustration.

The third shot hit the target in the chest, knocking the creature back into the horde

"Three o'clock!" Chad replied in full game-mode.

Jared shifted his stance and fired, hitting the fiend in its elbow, which did nothing to slow it down. His fifth shot uselessly hit the windowsill rather than any of the undead.

"Oh! Over there again. Quarter to twelve," Mike directed.

"What?" Jared puzzled, wrinkling his nose.

"11:45," Tom corrected.

Jared's sixth shot slammed into the head of the creature standing next to the one he was actually aiming for, but Jared counted it anyway.

"K.I.S.S. -- Keep it simple!" Jared requested as he fired. The creature flew back through the hole in the window.

"Top left!" Chad directed.

Jared swung around, following Chad's directions. He attempted to fire only to discover he was out of shells. "Reload!" he cried.

"Got it!" Chad replied, flipping open the box and pulling out the needed ammunition.

"Shit! Fucking-" Jared anxiously fussed with the rifle as he forced the shells into their chambers. Quickly he cocked the rifle and aimed. This shot hit the creature right between the eyes and she fell backwards into the street.

"Nice shot," Chad mused.

"Jay, when you get a minute?" Jensen requested from booth where he had settled Sherri.

"Okay," Jared replied to Jensen. "Tom, Mike, block up this window," he waved at the window in question. Then he handed the rifle to Chad. "Chad, take over a sec." He stalked over to Jensen and his mother. "What is it? What's wrong?" He could hear Mike and Tom bickering about the best way to barricade the window, but he tuned it out.

Jensen took his hand gently and squeezed it. "Jay, I'm so sorry." Jensen looked completely devastated.

Jared slowly looked from Jensen to his mother. "Momma, what's wrong?"

"I didn't want to bother you, Puppy," Sherri assured him.

Jared pulled up a chair, looking more concerned. "I don't understand. What is it?"

Jensen put a hand on Jared's shoulder and carefully slid Sherri's sleeve up a little to show Jared the bloody bite on her wrist. Jared gasped and looked from his mother's face to Jensen, then back to his mother. He felt the horror of it, the devastation of it, the impending helplessness and hopelessness of it. A chill slid down his spine and spread through his body wrapping cold tendrils around him. He would rather it had been him.

"It was Mitch. I didn't want to say anything. I thought you'd be upset," Sherri explained.

"No...you should have said something," Jared said softly, bowing his head to hide his teary eyes beneath long brown hair. His too-big fingers curled around her long thin ones.

Chad noticed the hushed whispers and the tearful words. He knew something was not right. "Take over a sec." He handed the rifle to Mike and marched over to the booth. "What's up?" He asked Jensen. "What the hell's going on?"

"Sherri's hurt," Jensen replied.

"Take over a minute." Mike handed Tom the rifle and fled to Jensen's side.

"Jesus," Tom swore, staring at the unwanted rifle in his large hands. He looked like someone had just handed him a bag of doggie poop.

"Puppy, I never thanked you," Sherri rasped, leaning toward Jared's ear.

Jared looked at her and blinked at the non sequitur. "For what, Momma?" he asked softly.

"For those flowers – ‘To a Wonderful Mom'," she smiled gratefully at him. She leaned back against the bench. Her breathing grew labored and slowed. "It's been...a strange day,...hasn't it?"

Jared felt her hand go limp in his. "Oh, no," he whispered hoarsely. "No, Momma, come on. Hang on." Tears crawled down his dirt-streaked, blood-streaked face. "Momma, please don't go," he sobbed as her eyes slid shut. He pulled her fingers to his cheek.

Numbly, Jensen squeezed his shoulder and wiped at his own tears with his other hand. Mike sniffled and wiped at his own tears.

The report of the rifle cocking thundered through the bar.

Everyone turned to see Tom aiming the Winchester rifle at Jared's deceased mother.

"What are you doing?" Jensen whispered cautiously as if talking to a skittish shooter in a bell tower.

"We have to deal with her," Tom announced nervously. He was a powder keg ready to blow.

"Tom!" Mike exclaimed in wide-eyed disbelief. He shook his head at his boyfriend, wondering not for the first time what the fuck was wrong with him.

"For Christ's sake!" Jensen swore with exasperation. "Can you at least give him a moment to grieve?"

"She's gonna come back!" Tom insisted.

"She's not going anywhere!" Chad retorted. He took a menacing step toward Tom.

"She'll change!" Tom replied, still holding the rifle in Sherri's direction.

"Tom, calm down," Jensen said slowly and softly. "She's his mother."

"She's a zombie," Tom replied hysterically.

Jared had remained still since his mother had slipped quietly away from this chaotic nightmare of a reality. His shoulders slumped and his head bowed as tears rolled down his face freely. He pretended not to hear the argument going on around him until now. Angry, he slammed the palms of his hands on the table, creating a near deafening sound. In one swift move, he stood and faced Tom, knocking his chair backwards to the floor.

"Don't. Say that," Jared replied in the same cold tone. His hazel eyes were devoid of emotion. He stared into Tom's cool blue eyes daring him to do or say anything.

"Move aside, Jared," Tom choked. "I'm going to count to three." Tom raised the gun to steady it. "One..."

No one moved. No one dared.

"Two..."

Jared especially did not move.

"Three..."

Four years of dealing with Tom's snide remarks and insults plus two exceptionally stressful days meant not even Superman could have held Jared back. Before anyone knew what happened, Jared had Tom pressed against one of the square columns at the end of the bar. Jared had one hand around Tom's throat and one hand bunched in his shirt. "Don't. Point that gun at my Momma," he said coolly, his face mere inches from Tom's face.

Tom's blue eyes were wide. The rifle hung loosely in one hand as he pushed against Jared's chest with the other.

"Okay, everybody, calm down!" Jensen demanded. He moved so he was standing next to both of them and put a hand on each of their shoulders. Jensen attempted to push them apart.

Jared refused to budge.

"Can we please just stop and think about this?" Jensen pleaded.

"Tell him to put the gun down," Jared said with the same tone he might have used to say, "Please pass the green beans."

"She's gonna change. You know I'm right," Tom told Jared. "And when she does, she'll kill us all." Tom looked to Jensen. "That's what your ex can't seem to realize-"

"That's what this is really about, isn't it?" Jared pulled back a little without letting Tom go. "You never liked me. You've never thought I was good enough for Jen; you never thought I deserved him," Jared accused.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tom asked, voice rising in panic again.

"Oh, come on," Jared snarled. "We all know you're in love with Jen."

"That's not true!" Tom denied.

"Yes, it is!" Jared shouted, shaking Tom.

"That is not true!" Tom repeated.

"Yes, it is," Mike admitted adamantly.

"What?" Tom asked incredulously.

"I know you only starting hanging out with me to get close to Jensen, and when he wasn't interested, I was there to pick up the pieces," Mike said, folding his arms across his chest. "I've come to terms with that, Tom. Why can't you?"

Cheeks red, Tom stared at the floor during Mike's speech. He shook his head. "Jen, I want you to know that my feelings for you have always been-"

"Oh, Tom, please!" Jensen interrupted. "I think there are slightly more pressing matters at hand here."

"Like you pointing a gun at my Momma," Jared stated angrily.

"I'm not the one being unreasonable here, _Puppy_ ," Tom replied.

"For Christ's sakes, she's dead!" Jared's voice broke over the words. "Leave her alone!"

"You can't be the hero, if you're a hypocrite," Tom remarked snidely.

"Well, haven't you gone from mild-mannered teacher to cold Terminator bitch?" Jared snarked.

"She's not your mom. In a minute, she'll just be another zombie," Tom stated.

Jared shoved Tom against the post again. "Don't say that!"

"We're not using the stupid ‘z'-word!" Chad shouted, stepping closer and pointing a finger in Tom's face.

"Please! Can we all just calm. The. Fuck. Down?" Jensen exploded, pushing harder on their shoulders. When Jared loosened his grip enough that Jensen could step between them, he continued talking. "Now, I can see what Tom is trying to say-"

"Thank you," Tom said, straightening his shirt.

"Even if he is being an asshole," Jensen added.

"Yeah," Mike agreed, and Tom blushed.

"And, Jared..." Jensen stepped in front of Jared, grabbing his face to force Jared to look at him. "Jay, look at me..." Jensen's green eyes caressed Jared's face, spoke volumes of unspoken words he wished he had time to say, wished he knew how to say, and wished he were man enough to say. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you, but we can't afford to fall apart." His voice trembled. "Jay, _babe_...I know you don't want to hear this-"

Pale and sickly with eyes glazed over, undead Sherri pulled herself to her feet. Donna Reid must have been rolling over in her grave. She moaned softly, almost politely for an undead creature.

Jared and Jensen turned to look at her, almost afraid of what they would see.

Jared mutely held out his hand for the rifle and Tom obediently handed it to him. Jared raised the Winchester and took aim. "I'm sorry, Momma," he whispered.

Undead Sherri took a tentative step forward, a guttural noise starting to build in her throat.

"Do it!" Tom encouraged, nervously.

Jared fired. Undead Sherri's head snapped back as blood and brains splattered everywhere. Around him, everyone jerked at the sound, at the sight. Their faces were full of horror and sorrow and misery. Undead Sherri fell into the booth.

Jared felt dead. He lowered the rifle, and then let it clatter to the floor.

"Well..." Tom hesitated. "I think we all agree you did the right thing."

Tom was on the floor before he knew Jared's fist hit his face. Tom grabbed the rifle, cocked it, and aimed it at Jared.

"Tom!" Mike exclaimed and Jensen yelled, "No!"

Jared stared, unflinching.

Chad looked back and forth between them.

Tom dropped the rifle and scrambled to his feet. "Fine! I'm leaving!"

"What?" Jensen asked in shock.

Tom started tossing things away from the barricade in front of the doors. "I'm not staying here."

"Tom, don't! It's suicide!" Jensen argued.

"I think you _should_ go," Chad agreed with Tom.

"We will. We can run. We can defend ourselves," Tom said stiffly.

"We?" Mike asked suspiciously.

"You and me," Tom responded, looking pleadingly at his boyfriend.

"Opening that door would be the most epically stupid thing you've ever done," Mike replied.

"You're going to stay here with _him_?" Tom accused, wounded.

"Look, Jared didn't—" Mike started.

"After everything he's gotten us into?" Tom interrupted angrily.

"Let me finish!" Mike screeched. "Jared didn't ask you to come here with him, and you didn't have come, but you came for the same reason I did – because you didn't know what else to do! Now get away from that door this instant!" Mike pointed a red-nailed finger at Tom and jabbed the finger in the air near himself, directing Tom to his side.

"But-"

"Thomas!" Mike sounded even more like a howler monkey.

Tom looked at his feet, hands curled in fists at his side. He slowly stepped away from the door, taking two steps two the side. When he looked up, his face still looked wild, but his voice was oddly calmer than it had been all day. "I'm sorry, Michael."

"Maybe I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Mike suggested.

Tom looked back at his feet, sighed, then gathering his inner strength, he said, "Jared..."

The window behind Tom shattered. The glass sprayed across the barroom floor. Tom cringed as too many fingers to count clawed at him from behind. He tried to step back into the safety of the barroom, but the fingers and hands behind him pulled him off his feet, dragging him backward toward the horde in the street.

"Tom, No!" Mike screamed. "NoNoNoNo!" Mike ran to him, grabbing hold of one of his long legs, and trying to pull him back into the bar.

Jared grabbed Tom's other leg and pulled with all of his might.

"Tom!" Jensen screamed, trying to help Mike.

Tom screamed as the undead horde tore into him, pulling pieces of him away, tearing at his flesh, ripping his insides out, even while Mike, Jared, and Jensen screamed and pulled to rescue him.

Chad grabbed the Winchester and the shells. He began reloading the weapon.

When Mike fell backwards into the bar still griping Tom's leg, he came completely unhinged. "Tom!" he cried. He scrambled to his feet and wielding Tom's leg as if it were a club, Mike ran to the door. He swung it open and ran right into the horde. "Tom, I'm coming! I'm coming, my love!" He swung the leg at the heads of nearby undead creatures as they grabbed at him.

"Mike, no!" Jensen screamed.

"Mike!" Jared yelled.

It was too late.

Chad, Jared, and Jensen stood in the middle of The Winchester as the infected walking dead spilled in through any and every door and window.

"Oh, my God," Jared swore.

"Molotovs?" Chad suggested, holding the rifle, but unsure where to aim it first.

Jared shrugged. They were out of options. "Hell, why not?"

"Do it!" Jensen agreed.

Chad handed the Winchester to Jensen, who tossed it at Jared.

"Jay, hold them!" Chad ordered. "Remember, heads!"

Jensen grabbed a chair. Jensen growled and ran at their undead assailants holding the four legs parallel to the ground, pushing them back physically, sometimes with gaping holes.

Jared cocked the rifle, aimed and fired. He looked manly and heroic, but mostly he missed. "Chad, hurry!"

The room was filling quickly.

Behind the bar, Chad ripped towels into strips and prepared bottles of alcohol to make homemade grenades. He turned one bottle upside down to soak the rag stuffed in its neck, drizzling brandy over Samantha's nicely polished bar.

"Chad!" Jensen urged.

Chad stepped around the bar and lit the rag. Right next to Chad, the basement door exploded into the bar as more undead pushed their way inside. Startled, Chad jumped back but did not drop the flaming bottle.

Undead naked Misha grabbed at Chad.

"Hey, Jay, look who it is!" Chad chuckled in disbelief.

Jared glanced over his shoulder and blinked in surprise. "Holy shit!" He wondered if undead naked Misha had actually understood when he said where they were going that morning.

"Don't groan at me, dumbass!" Chad managed to get undead naked Misha in a choke hold, but another undead creature grabbed him from behind.

"Chad!" Jared warned, raising the rifle.

"Jared!" Jensen screamed. He was cornered by the jukebox. "Help! I can't hold them!"

Misha snarled and nipped at Chad's arm.

"No! Misha!" Jared yelled.

Undead naked Misha looked up at his name, stood, and started toward Jared.

"I said, ‘leave him alone!'" Jared snarled angrily and fired the rifle, actually managing to hit undead naked Misha right between the eyes.

Unfortunately, the other creature bit hard into Chad's neck like a bulldog with a bone. Chad screamed over and over as he was pulled through the basement door.

"Chad? .Chad?" Jared searched desperately. He could not find his friend in the sea of undead and now flames licking through the basement door.

"Jared, get behind the bar!" Jensen ordered, holding off his attackers using the coat rack.

Jared helped Jensen push the throng back, tossing the coat rack into them in the motion, and dove over the bar with Jensen beside him. They huddled on the floor against the side of the bar. Jared clutched the rifle like a security blanket.

"Chad!" Jared barked, still hoping to find his best friend. The bar was surrounded by the undead. "Chad!" He closed his eyes as if that would make Chad appear. "Chad!"

Chad flung himself onto the floor behind the bar. His arm, neck, and chest were covered in blood. He grimaced. "What is it, you big pansy?" he whined. "Give me a towel!"

Jensen pressed a couple of clothe towels against Chad's neck wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. He tore a strip off and tied it around Chad's arm wound.

Impulsively, Jared stood and grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol. Like a character in a Mel Brooks movie scene, he melodramatically yanked the cork out with his teeth and spit it out nonchalantly to the side, smirking with an edge of sexy seriousness bubbling beneath those hazel brown eyes. He poured its contents along the top of the bar, flicked Chad's abandoned lighter, and lit the bar on fire. He grinned and admired his handiwork for a second. He secretly always wanted to do that.

"That should hold them back for a bit," Jared said as he dropped back down next to Jensen. After a second, he thought to ask, "Where are the shells?"

"They're on the bar," Chad replied as if it should have been painfully obvious the way their day had been going.

"Oh, fuck," Jared swore, screwing his eyes shut for a second before jumping to his feet and quickly searching for them. He spotted them already surrounded by flames. He reached for them, but the heat of the metal burnt the tips of his fingers. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Fuck it!" He dropped back to the floor.

"Now what are we gonna do? Where are we gonna do?" Jared asked. This was the end. They were surrounded, backed into a corner, and almost out of shells. He was out of rabbits to pull out of the hat.

"The cellar," Chad replied, tapping on the floor.

Jared and Jensen looked down and noticed the trap door for the first time.

"Can we get out that way?" Jensen suggested, sounding desperately hopeful.

"There's a hatch that leads to the street," Chad explained.

"You mean go back outside?" Jared shook his head. Outside was no better than in here.

One of the undead discovered how to push up the false bar top that made the entry and exit to behind the bar. She led the creatures past the fire hazard.

"Oh, give us a fucking break!" Jared stared. He recalled when there was just the two slow shuffling undead in the backyard, and he and Chad had seemed to have all day to figure out how to deal with them, but these undead just did not allow for the three of them to get any proper planning done.

The shells finally heated enough to go dangerously, randomly ballistic without a firing weapon. At a schedule of their own pacing, they began ricocheting around the small area. Some hit the undead. Some hit bottles of flammable alcohol. Some came close to hitting living, breathing objects.

Jared, Jensen and Chad scrambled to pull up the trap door to the cellar. They raced down the ladder, pulling the trap door down behind them. Experience told them, however, the creatures above would find a way to follow soon.

Chad collapsed at the bottom of the ladder, clutching his towels.

Jared and Jensen looked around and found the hatch to the street. From above, a thin sliver of light taunted them.

"I can see the street," Jared said. He pushed on the metal doors above him, but they refused to budge. "Oh, come on!" He looked like Samson pushing uselessly against the columns. "Come on...Why won't they open?" Jared desperately shook the doors, struggling with all of his strength, until he collapsed to his knees, feeling helpless, feeling hopeless. He sobbed.

Jensen stood nearby, watching him with worry.

"That's it," Jared said with finality. "We're trapped..." He let out a huge sigh. "'Hey, let's go to The Winchester!' Whose fucking idea was that?" He put his face in his hands. All the emotions of the day flowed out of him, all the pain, the fear, the heartache, the shame, the anxiety, the desperation, the anger, the grief, the love, the hope, the want and the stress. All of it flooded out in salty streaks on his cheeks and broken sobs from his throat. "Man, I've really fucked this up."

Jensen knelt in front of him and pulled Jared's hands away from his face. He brushed Jared's hair gently back, studying every little detail.

This was the Jared who Jensen had loved all along, had never seen, and had always known was there. This was the Jared who took charge in a crisis, who was responsible when it mattered, who faced the impossible, when any normal person would have shrunk into a ball in the back of his closet. This was the Jared who always wore his heart on his sleeve, who found something good in everyone – even Chad. This was the Jared who always wanted everyone to just get along. This was the Jared who would always be the giant boy who never grew up, but who could be a strong, courageous man when he really needed to be, when everyone else needed him to be. This was the Jared who Jensen was in love with, had been in love with since that first dumbstruck look four years ago.

"No, you haven't," Jensen said softly.

"Oh, yes, I have, Jen. I can't save us. I couldn't save Mike or Tom. I couldn't even save my Momma." He sobbed. "I'm...I'm useless. I'm a screw-up."

"You can't let yourself feel so responsible," Jensen said, carding his fingers through Jared's hair. "You tried. At least you tried. You did something. That's what counts."

Jared blinked at Jensen, leaning into his touch. Jensen always knew the right thing to say. He sighed. "Maybe."

The trap door above them creaked, drawing their anxious attention to it.

"Do you think they'll get through?" Jensen worried.

"Yeah," Jared replied, shakily.

"How many shells do we have left?"

"Um..." Jared uncocked the rifle to check. "Two." He laid it again on the ground. "I suppose we could take a few of them out if they stand in a straight line," he joked, lamely.

Jensen was quiet. "I wasn't really thinking of them."

"Yeah, I know," Jared said quietly, caressing Jensen's cheek with his rough, bloodied knuckles.

More noise from above distracted them, making the situation more urgent.

"What about Chad? There's only two shells," Jared commented.

"I don't mind being eaten," Chad said, reminding them he was still alive and conscious.

Jared picked up the rifle and studied it. He frowned, looking between Jensen and the rifle. "How are we going to do this?"

"Um...I don't know," Jensen replied. "One of us has to go first."

"Well, maybe one should do the other and then do themselves," Jared suggested.

"Maybe you should do me," Jensen said. "I'd only fuck it up, if I have to do myself."

Jared sighed, looking into Jensen's eyes and then looking away. He shook his head. "I don't think I can take having to kill my friend, my roommate, my Momma, _and_ my boyfriend, all in the same evening."

"What makes you think we're back together?" Jensen teased.

"You don't want me to die single, do you?" Jared smiled, resting his forehead against Jensen's forehead. He let his eyes say so much of what had been left unsaid between them.

Jensen sucked in a breath at the intensity of Jared's gaze.

"Actually...I _would_ like to be shot," Chad mumbled.

"Besides, I'm a changed man. I haven't smoked a cigarette since yesterday. I promise," Jared said, hand resting at Jensen's nape.

"He hasn't," Chad assured.

The trap door rattled.

"Well...maybe we should have one now..." Jensen suggested sheepishly. Jensen pulled back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Wha-?" Jared's expression shifted from stunned to accusatory.

"You left them at my apartment." Jensen shrugged.

"Yeah. In the trash."

"I was desperate," Jensen replied. "It's been a stressful day."

"Sneaky..." Jared snickered.

"Sorry," Jensen pouted, sliding a cigarette out of the pack.

"I won't tell anyone," Jared mumbled with a wink as Jensen stuck a cigarette in Jared's mouth.

Jensen thumbed the lighter, and a flame stretched up bright above it. Jensen blinked at the wall illuminated behind Jared. Green eyes-wide, he handed the lighter to Jared and nodded in the direction to look.

With the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, Jared turned, holding the lighter to the wall and did a double-take. Plain as day – or as lighter flame – the electric controls to the metal hatch doors were directly behind them on the wall. Jared grinned at Jensen, letting his dimples show and letting the flame go out. He jumped to his feet and ran to Chad.

"Dude, come on, we're busting out of here," Jared said, shaking Chad, who had nearly passed out from blood loss.

"I think I'm gonna stay here," Chad mumbled.

"But we can get out," Jared pointed toward the controls.

"You two make a run for it," Chad said weakly. "On your own."

"What're you talking about?" Jared breathed.

"I'll only hold you back," Chad replied, accepting his time was near.

"Yeah, but-"

Chad shook his head.

Crestfallen, Jared paused and took a breath. Finally, he nodded, accepting the truth. The tears welled up in his eyes again. "Maybe you should have this." He handed Chad the Winchester.

Chad pushed it back. "Don't you want it?"

"No...I can't hit anything with it anyway," Jared replied with a laugh.

Chad looked away. He decided not to agree or disagree. He would rather not spend his last moments with Jared telling a lie.

"Chad, I'm sorry." Jared leaned close; his voice was serious.

"Why?"

"'For all those things I said earlier," Jared said. "Outside..."

"It's all right. I'm sorry too," Chad mumbled and weakly waved it off.

"It's okay," Jared replied, blinking back his tears. He hugged Chad. "I love you, man."

Chad pushed weakly at his chest. "Dude! Don't put your gay on me...I told you I'm not your type!"

Jared smiled a little feebly. He put the cigarette in Chad's mouth and lit it.

The trap door burst open above them. Pieces of wood fell and light poured in from above.

"You better get out of here," Chad said.

Jared patted Chad's good shoulder and stood. He walked over to where Jensen stood waiting for him beneath the metal doors.

"Bye, Chad," Jensen said. "Love you."

"Good luck," Chad replied as creatures started climbing down the ladder.

"I love you, man," Jared added, voice cracking.

"Pussies," Chad mumbled.

Jensen pressed the button. The metal doors opened above them and the lift took them up, stopping just a foot below street level. They stepped onto the sidewalk. Jensen held a heavy chain in his hands and Jared held the axe that normally paired with the fire hose.

Looking around, there seemed to be no less walking undead than before they entered The Winchester, which seemed odd considering the number that were now inside the bar.

Jared frowned.

Jensen looked at Jared. "Ready?"

"Ready," Jared nodded.

They stood back to back and prepared their weapons to do battle as the undead approached.

A tank rolled down the street, plowing down undead creatures in its wake. It was followed by other large military vehicles. Several screeched to a halt in front of them. Armed, muscular men in camouflage and uniforms jumped from the back and out of doors with toxic warning signals stamped on them.

Someone over a megaphone yelled, "Section One. Ready! Zombies to your front. Fire!...Fire!"

Machine gun fire echoed through the night as bullets ripped through the animated corpses, many of which collapsed. Military personnel seemingly determined to drop them in record time rushed those that remained standing or ambling along. Spotlights swept the area, temporarily blinding Jared and Jensen.

A familiar silhouette appeared amongst the chaos.

"Oh, my God! Jared!" a familiar nasal voice squealed.

"Sarah?" Jared stammered in extreme disbelief.

"How are you doing?" Sarah Michelle Prinze queried. She still wore the camo-style jacket, the army green t-shirt and the army green jeans, and she still carried the golf club, only it was a little more bent.

They both answered uncertainly, "Surviving..."

Sarah grinned. "They're taking us somewhere safe," she told them. I thought you two might want to come along." She looked around. "Is it...just the two of you?"

Shell-shocked, they nodded.

"Well, I'm glad somebody made it." Sarah smashed an undead creature in the head barely looking away from them. "Come on." She waved them toward the truck.

Jared and Jensen slowly followed her. Jared slid his hand into Jensen's, entwining their fingers, feeling safe knowing Jensen was with him, alive despite everything and after everyone else he had lost.


	14. Epilogue: 28 Weeks Later

**EPILOGUE: "28 Weeks Later"**

  


He paused at the end of the quiet, dimly lit hallway. His hand rested casually on his belt buckle, the holstered gun within easy reach on his hip. His steps were slow and purposeful, careful not to draw attention from anyone in the adjoining rooms.

A quiet moan drifted from room P-323.

He hesitated before peeking past the partially opened door.

Mrs. Hernandez was already pulling herself out of the uncomfortable bedside chair to check on her six-year-old daughter in the hospital bed.

He took a step back, mentally hearing Jensen chastise him for being nosy. When Jared turned to look down the length of the hall, Jensen was leaning against the counter of the nursing station, arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable. Guilt flitted across Jared's face, before his mouth spread into a wide smile. _God._ Jensen looked so hot in his scrubs.

Jared stepped quickly down the hall to meet his boyfriend. "Hey, you," he grinned.

Jensen's gaze slid over Jared's hospital security uniform appreciatively. He reached up and straightened Jared's collar. "Hey, babe," Jensen smiled. "What're you doing up here?"

"I'm about to go on break." Jared replied. "And I thought I could convince the hottest nurse on the ward to get some coffee with me. Hi, Lauren," Jared leaned against the counter and waved at Lauren Cohan, one of the other night shift nurses at Medical City Children's Hospital in Dallas.

"Hi, Jared," she smiled warmly at him, unable to resist his infectious dimples.

Jensen rolled his eyes and shook his head. If Jared was not careful, Lauren would be calling Jared at all hours again, asking for help with her idiot boyfriend. "Don't you need to study for your test?" Jensen replied.

"Yeah, but I have these nifty flash cards my gorgeous boyfriend made for me." Jared pulled the index cards with the neat, inked print out of his shirt pocket. "And I was hoping there could be quizzing with a reward system."

"A reward system?" Jensen quirked an eyebrow.

Jared really approved of the kiss-for-every-right-answer system Jensen had set up at home. There were even more spectacular sexy rewards for grades on papers and tests. If school had been this motivating the first time around, Jared would have definitely graduated without a problem. Jared grinned even wider and glanced again at Lauren.

"Go," she said from her seat at the computer. "I can handle things for twenty minutes," she assured Jensen.

Jensen glanced at her and chuckled. "Come on," Jensen relented, taking Jared's hand. "But you better get every one of those answers right."

"Trust me," Jared replied as Jensen led him toward the elevator. "I've been studying hard. I'm going to make it totally worth your while."

Jensen shuffled the cards, glancing through them as they waited for the elevator.

When the elevator door opened, Jared glanced around and whispered huskily into Jensen's ear, "Hey, can we play _Grey's Anatomy_ in the elevator on the way down?"

Jensen pushed Jared into the elevator without a word. Jared found his back slammed against the wall of the elevator, Jensen's muscular body melded to his as if they were one. Jensen fisted Jared's shirt with one hand, the flash cards, in the other hand, against the wall next to Jared's head.

It always amazed Jared how well they fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle interlocking. As the doors to the elevator closed, Jensen tilted his head up and gently brushed his soft lips over Jared's. "I'm so proud of you, babe," Jensen whispered.

"I know," Jared replied, settling his hands on Jensen's waist.

Jensen chuckled, before pressing a slow kiss to Jared's lips. Jared responded gently at first, but as Jensen melted into him, the kiss deepened, became fevered, a mixture of Jared's candy sweet and Jensen's barbecue spicy...

The End?

**Author's Note:**

> **Soundtrack (in alphabetical order):**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _(Another One) Bites the Dust_ by Queen  
>  _Beer for My Horses_ by Toby Keith  
>  _Don’t Stop Me Now_ by Queen  
>  _Eve of Destruction_ by Barry McGuire  
>  _Friends in Low Places_ by Garth Brooks  
>  _Hell’s Bells_ by AC/DC  
>  _Highway to Hell_ by AC/DC  
>  _I Will Survive_ by Gloria Gaynor  
>  _I’m Awesome_ by S'pose  
>  _If Today Were Your Last Day_ by Nickleback  
>  _If You Leave Me Now_ by Chicago  
>  _It’s the End of the World as We Know It_ by Saint Eve  
>  _You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet_ by BTO


End file.
